The Flip Side
by Fuzzy Elf
Summary: Chapter 12 What's a petrified Mudblood to a pack of Slytherins when Christmas is on its way? In his 6th year Transfiguration class, Adrian Pucey inadvertantly does his best to end the term with a bang. His unsuspecting victim? Terrence Higgs. CoS
1. Unwanted Encounters

The Flip Side

Chapter One

"But _Da_-ddy!"

"Abigail, I am warning you, not another word about it!"

Abigail Malfoy scowled and closed her mouth. Beside her, Draco sneered as he took another bite of his breakfast bangers. He found it amusing to watch his elder sister whine and still not get what she wanted.

The argument had started yesterday morning when the family's eagle owl had delivered the mail containing Draco and Abby's Hogwarts letters. Abby, who had spent the previous year away from Hogwarts studying as an exchange student at Durmstrang (a special opportunity awarded to her by Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House), had not been the least bit pleased to hear she would be returning to Hogwarts. She had very nearly thrown a tantrum when Mr Malfoy had informed the two that they would be going to Diagon Alley the next day for school supplies.

She spent that night cuddling her gorgeous Himalayan cat Nightshade and sending letters by owl post back and forth to Marcus Flint about how horrible her life was. Eventually Flint promised her that he would arrive at Malfoy Manor the next morning and accompany her to Diagon Alley where they would meet up with some other members of Slytherin. The thought of seeing Flint the next day had considerably raised her spirits but still she had tried to plead her case to her father again that morning. The results were obvious; Lucius did not want to hear it.

"Abigail, darling, do not scowl," Mrs Malfoy said as she whisked through the kitchen. Dobby, the family's servant House Elf, dodged to avoid being knocked over by her as he raced about setting the table with more food. "Your face will stay that way." Draco stifled a laugh.

"_Mother_," Abby rolled her eyes. "Really."

Narcissa moved behind the table and licked her fingers and then pulled a stray strand of Abby's blonde hair back into place among her curled locks. "Must look our best, darling. Marcus will be here soon, after all." She used the last bit of saliva on her finger to wipe a crumb from Draco's face.

"Mother!" Abby repeated.

"Must look our best for _Marcus_," Draco mocked her with a howling laugh.

Abby was tempted to turn her brother into a spotted toad but held her tongue as Lucius re-entered the room. Both sat up straight under his disapproving gaze - he was often after them for squabbling. Then, after a sideways kick at Dobby who scurried from the room, he unexpectedly sat down with them at the table.

"Princess," he began, folding his hands neatly on the table. "I know how much of a _dreadful_ letdown Hogwarts will be to go back to after the year you had. Especially with that wretched Professor Dumbledore in charge." Abby was nodding. "So how about I buy you something nice at Diagon Alley today?"

"Oh, _honest_, Daddy?" Abby beamed. "Can it be something from Knockturn Alley?"

"Anything you want, Princess," Lucius's grey eyes flickered.

"Oi! Hang on, what about me? Why does _she_ get a present and _I_ don't?" Draco interjected, shooting a displeased look at his sister.

"Alright, Draco, I'll get you a present as well," Lucius conceded, rolling his eyes. Draco looked triumphantly at Abby, who was about to argue but was cut off by Dobby as the elf came skidding back into the kitchen. He cast an apprehensive look at Lucius before speaking.

"Mistress Abigail!" he wheezed, quite out of breath. "Begging your pardon, miss, but Dobby has been sent to fetch you. Marcus Flint has just arrived by Floo Powder, miss, and he wants to see you."

Abby jumped to her feet and Draco sneered. "Mustn't keep _Marcus_ waiting after all," he said as she passed but she ignored him with a toss of her blonde hair and he went back to chattering on about what he wanted for his present.

Abby marched through the many rooms of Malfoy Manor until she finally came to the large sitting room lavishly decorated with expensive furniture and beautiful scenic paintings portraying green grass blowing in the wind, clouds drifting passed mountains, and other such things. This room was Narcissa's pride and joy: a chance to show off her stature and fashionable taste. A pair of enormous glass doors led the way out to the veranda that overlooked the garden. Nightshade was napping on the arm of one of Narcissa's ivory coloured designer sofas. Standing in front of the white stone fireplace at the far end of the room was Marcus Flint - Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and Abby's boyfriend for the past four years - carefully dusting his robes so as not to get a spot of dirt on the furniture.

Flint's dark, brooding eyes caught sight of her as she entered the room and his mouth twisted into his crooked, toothy grin. He curled his finger, beckoning her to him. She smiled coyly and walked to his side, nudging Nightshade off the sofa before her mother could catch him. "Hello, Marcus," she said.

Flint's reply was to lift her chin and lean down to kiss her. "Life's not so horrible now, is it?" he winked after pulling back again and then both looked up at the distinct sound of somebody clearing their throat. Lucius was standing across the room with his usual disapproving look on his face.

"Mr Flint," came Lucius's cold greeting.

"All right, Mr Malfoy?" Flint said with a cocky grin on his face. "Lovely day, in' it? If you don't mind, we'll just have a minute to enjoy it before it's off to Diagon Alley." Before Lucius could object, Flint took Abby's hand and led her out onto the veranda and closed the glass door behind him.

"The nerve of that boy," Lucius hissed as Narcissa came up next to him.

"I agree, father," Draco said loudly. Neither had noticed him follow Narcissa from the kitchen. "Utterly disgraceful."

"Off you go, Draco," Narcissa shooed him away. "Go and get dressed." Draco huffed but was pleased that he had gotten his word in and headed toward his room. Narcissa turned back to Lucius. "Now, darling, Marcus is a _lovely_ boy. Captain of the _Slytherin_ Quidditch team. Strong. From a wealthy family." She leaned closer to her husband's ear as she whispered, "_Pure-blood_. Our Abigail could do _far_ worse, let me remind you." There was a knowing light in her eyes.

"Hmm," Lucius replied, not having taken his eyes from Abby and Flint as they crossed the garden. "Indeed. Provided he come in useful someday."

"Whether he does or not, we have more important matters at hand," Narcissa reminded him. "It is crucial that nobody suspect a thing."

"It is all in hand, Narcissa," Lucius tore his eyes away from the two outside. "They will be there today. Nought to worry about."

"Good," she said and kissed his cheek. "Now you had better decide what you're buying for Draco before he goes mad with anticipation," she teased and then left the room. As soon as she was out of sight, Nightshade was back up on the sofa.

Lucius ignored the cat and moved to leave but as he turned around he caught sight of Dobby hiding a little ways off. He shot a warning glare at the cowardly elf as he smoothly swept past, wondering if that had not been the first time Dobby had been listening in on a conversation. He would have to think of a suitable punishment later.

--

It wasn't much later before it was off to Diagon Alley. Flint told Abby that Adrian Pucey and Terrence Higgs would meet them in front of Gringott's around noon and Lucius had some business at Borgin & Burkes in Knockturn Alley. Naturally this interested Draco (who had now been promised a racing broom) and he insisted that he accompany his father. This arrangement was met with objections from neither Abby nor Flint, who were quite pleased that they would not have Draco tagging along.

As it was not yet noon when they arrived at Gringott's, Pucey and Higgs were not there. Abby and Flint waited next to the white marble staircase and passed the time with a lot of snogging and cuddling, stopping only momentarily to leer at passers-by (most horribly at younger Hufflepuffs) and mutter rotten things about them just loud enough for them to hear.

"Not interrupting anything, are we mate?"

They looked up; Pucey and Higgs had finally arrived. It was ten past twelve.

"You're late," Flint grinned after one last kiss from Abby.

"But just in time for a little fun," Higgs said and pointed over his shoulder. "Look who's coming."

Abby and Flint emerged from behind the stairs to look in the direction Higgs had indicated. The entire Weasley family was making their way down the street along with two other children obviously not of the family but recognizable at any rate. In fact, by Draco's uncanny accuracy of their descriptions (through constant ranting all summer), Abby knew the two to be none other than Hermione Granger and the famous Harry Potter.

The four Slytherins stared down the troupe of Gryffindors as they neared. Flint had told Abby in one of his many letters about Gryffindor's overthrow of Slytherin's seven-year House Cup winning streak (though Slytherin had still managed to secure the Quidditch Cup). They overheard the name Malfoy come up in conversation as the group passed and Percy Weasley looked in their direction, and then quickly looked away.

--

"Oh no," Percy muttered under his breath.

Fred and George heard the sentiment and paused in their curiosity, letting the rest of the family pass by and into Gringott's. "What is it, Perce?" Fred grinned. "Lose your Prefect badge?"

"No," Percy glowered at them.

"Are you certain?" George feigned concern. "We could search Diagon Alley for you. In fact, give us a minute and we'll have the Ministry of Magic on the case!"

"They'll leave no stone unturned!" Fred declared.

"I haven't lost my badge, thank you," Percy stated firmly. "I've only just seen someone I didn't care to see any time soon."

"Oh? Who's that then?" Fred asked.

Percy quickly jerked his head over his shoulder and the twins turned their attention to the gang of Slytherins at the bottom of the steps. "Oh," George said in recognition. "Them."

"Or more specifically _her_, I'd imagine," Fred added. "Has it been a whole year already? I'd gotten rather used to having her gone."

"It's nought to joke about," Percy snapped. "Excuse me." He pushed by them and entered the towering building. Fred and George followed quickly and, once inside, moved behind Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"Funny how you mentioned seeing Draco Malfoy earlier, Harry," Fred scratched his ear.

"Why's that?" Harry asked, not particularly seeing anything funny about seeing Draco Malfoy at any time.

"Because we've just seen his older sister outside," said George as Mr Weasley spoke to the Gringott's goblins.

"Another Malfoy?" Ron frowned deeply. "That's all we need! I expect she's just like Draco then?"

"Of course not, Ron - she's a girl," George grinned.

"I meant that she's horrid, you great lump!" Ron snapped.

"She's all mouth and no sense to shut it," Percy said stiffly, obviously wishing they'd change the subject. "Nothing more."

"Not quite," George went on. "She's quite the looker. Shame how a big gob ruins that."

"All you need's a good Silencing charm..." Fred winked.

"Fred Weasley, don't you even think about it!" Mrs Weasley turned around suddenly. They'd almost forgotten she was there. "I _seriously_ doubt it would be seen as an accident after the second time."

"Fred blasted her with a jaw-locking jinx in our second year," George said, stifling a laugh. "Worked better then we thought it would."

"You _didn't_!" Hermione looked horrified at Fred.

"Brilliant!" beamed Harry and Ron together.

"She had to have her meals through a straw for a week," Fred nodded.

"Most relaxing time we've ever had," George added.

Harry, Ron and Ginny were laughing. Hermione was shaking her head and trying not to smile. Even Percy's eyes revealed that he'd not entirely thought it to be the wrong thing to do.

"Of course, old McGonagall had a go at me for it," Fred continued. "And I had detention with Filch for every day she couldn't move her mouth." He thought for a moment. "And I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"You most _certainly_ will _not_!" Mrs Weasley interjected. Honestly, the woman had ears like a fox. Mr Weasley, however, was laughing silently to himself, hoping his wife wouldn't see.

"And that was it?" Ron asked. "I can't see a Malfoy - or anyone, really - forgetting something like that too easily."

"Oh, she didn't forget," Fred shook his head. "Especially when George and I made the Quidditch team."

"And since she's dating old Flint..." George trailed off.

"Oh," Harry groaned as he realized what they were saying. He had met Marcus Flint last year in the Quidditch match against Slytherin and knew him to be a nasty piece of work in his own right. Harry didn't like to think of the consequences of really angering him.

"But it was still worth it," Fred grinned.

Another silencing look from his mother and no more was said about it. Harry and the Weasleys made the trips to their respective bank vaults and soon returned to the surface where Hermione was waiting with her parents. She looked contemplative.

"Fred?" she asked. "I've been wondering. Just why _did_ you cast that jinx? Surely not for fun?"

"Never you mind," Percy said quickly and brushed by to go his own way, muttering something about quills.

"What, Hermione?" Fred shrugged in response to her question. "You mean to say I needed a reason?"

--

Percy walked through the large bronze front doors of Gringott's and looked around cautiously; the Slytherins were nowhere in sight. He sighed in relief and started down the marble steps, peering up and down Diagon Alley and wondering if Penelope Clearwater had arrived yet. He reached the cobbles of the street and turned to his left...and almost immediately fell flat on his face, spilling the coins his mother had given him.

"Careful, Weasley. Your life savings is getting away from you."

Percy gathered himself together and looked up at the sneering faces of Flint, Abby, Pucey and Higgs. They'd been hiding around the side of Gringott's steps waiting for one of the Weasleys to come out, and they couldn't hide their glee that it had been him. Percy was suddenly furious with himself for believing they'd actually just gone off.

Percy shoved the coins into his pocket and as he went to stand, Flint and Pucey roughly dragged him to his feet, and then proceeded to shove him against the stair wall. Percy refused to lose his dignity even with the larger boys leering at him.

"Can I help you with something, Flint?" he asked as normally as one could when two much stronger boys are squashing one against a marble staircase.

"Dunno, Weasley," Flint flashed his horrible grin. "Maybe you'd like to tell us why you lot were discussing Abby's family just then?"

Percy swallowed. His gaze darted to Abby, who was clinging to Flint's other arm and watching him maliciously. "Harry had just seen your brother, Abby, and was telling us about it. Nothing more. Now, if you please-"

"Nothing more?" Abby cut him off. "Funny, I could _swear_ I heard my father's name mentioned."

"He was-"

"You remember the last time you spoke ill of my family, don't you Weasley?" Abby took a serious tone and she moved in front of him, staring him down.

"I'd think you would remember it just as well," Percy's voice was defiant. Abby's eyes narrowed and Flint and Pucey pushed Percy even more forcefully into the wall. Percy's eyes bulged.

Abby stepped back and reattached herself to Flint's arm. The Slytherin Captain leaned closer to Percy. "No brothers to back you up this time, though," he snarled. "Maybe it's time we finish what was started."

They were now holding him so strongly that Percy was finding it difficult to breathe. His stomach knotted but he held his composure and stared straight back into Flint's threatening gaze.

Suddenly something caught Flint's eye and his attention shifted. Percy looked to see what: the shining Prefect badge on his shoulder.

"Oh, that's _right_," Flint sneered. "Weasley's a school _Prefect_. That changes everything, don't it, Adrian?"

"Oh yeah," Pucey sniggered. "Wouldn't wanna land ourselves in a right mess by beating up someone so _important_."

"Oi! Terry!" Flint called over his shoulder.

"Yeah?" Higgs moved over to him.

Flint shifted his grip on Percy and swiftly tore the Prefect badge from his cloak. "Isn't this yours?" he said and tossed the badge to Higgs.

"Mine's nicer," Higgs replied. "But maybe I'll start up a collection!" Percy watched in horror as Higgs pinned it to his cloak beside his own badge and puffed out his chest in imitation of Percy. The other Slytherins howled with laughter.

"Let him go."

Percy looked beyond Higgs to the source of the voice: George and Fred were standing behind him accompanied by their friend Lee Jordan, all three with their wands pointed at Marcus Flint's back. Abby and Higgs went for their wands but froze as Jordan shifted his aim to Higgs and Fred to Abby. Fred winked and Abby set her jaw in a scowl.

"Let him go, Flint," George repeated. "I wouldn't want to have to do anything that would leave you injured when Quidditch season starts."

Flint and George stared each other down; neither one seemed to blink. It was unlikely that Flint was worried George would make good on his threat (being bigger than both twins put together), and he was certainly not one to back down from a fight. But, as his eyes flickered momentarily to look just beyond George, he could see the rest of the Gryffindor team - Wood, Johnson, Spinnet and Bell - moving toward them. Abby, Pucey and Higgs saw them too and glanced at Flint.

After a moment's indecision, Flint took hold of Percy's robes with both hands and threw him hard to the ground. Percy gritted his teeth as his skin scraped along the cobbles and Higgs dropped the Prefect badge beside him and proceeded to stomp on it.

"See you on the pitch," Flint snarled at George and then led the Slytherins away. Fred blew a kiss at Abby as she passed and she tossed her hair and hurried up to walk beside Flint. As he passed the other Gryffindors, Flint threw a shoulder into Oliver Wood. Angelina Johnson held him back as Wood moved to retaliate. They hurried to where Fred and George were helping Percy to his feet.

"All right, Percy?" Wood asked.

"Fine, thank you," Percy said as he pinned his badge back on his robes. His frustration was evident in his voice.

"I knew there would be trouble now their little gang's back together," Angelina snorted. "Pathetic, she is, that Abby Malfoy."

"Oh, d'you know, she _deliberately_ turned me blue in Potions class once?" Alicia Spinnet said. "Remember Angelina? She came in to deliver a message to Snape and then tossed something in my cauldron on the way out! And then Snape took points from Gryffindor because I had made a mess!"

"She's all mouth and no sense to shut it," Percy repeated his earlier assessment of Abby. Then with a look at his brothers that mixed gratitude with humiliation, he strode off with all the dignity he could muster.

"What d'you reckon, Fred?" George folded his arms. "Is there another Silencing charm in Miss Malfoy's future?"

"Well, George, I was never good in Divination, but I think this calls for something much better," Fred snickered, and Wood couldn't help but wonder if he was going to have to replace his team's Beaters due to a double-expulsion.


	2. Discoveries Aboard the Hogwarts Express

The Flip Side

Chapter Two

Percy remained furious about the incident at Diagon Alley and refused to acknowledge the twins' attempts to have him provide input on how he would like to see the Slytherins paid back, leaving Fred and George to come up with something themselves. Not that they really minded. Percy never came up with good ideas anyway ("He'd probably hide her textbooks or something," Fred joked), and Lee Jordan was sending nearly an owl a day with some particularly interesting possibilities.

Before they knew it, September first had arrived and the Burrow became an absolute madhouse in the rush to get everyone out the door and into the car. By the time Percy, Fred and George burst through the barrier onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the twins were in such a hurry to find Lee and get a seat on the train that they didn't even notice Harry and Ron had failed to cross the barrier.

"Have you decided on one yet?" Lee asked with a great mischievous grin on his face.

"Not yet," Fred replied as he and George hurriedly loaded their trunks into the luggage car. "We wanted your help to narrow them down. There's _loads_ of great ideas-"

George threw an elbow into Fred's ribs as Flint, Abby (with Nightshade cradled in her arms), Pucey and Higgs passed behind them and entered a nearby car. A look passed between Fred and Abby - his of mockery and hers of disgust - before the group of Slytherins climbed onto the train.

"Blimey, would I just love to wipe the sneer off her face," Fred snorted as he heaved the last trunk into the car and shut the door. The train whistle blew and the three of them quickly leapt on board.

--

Hermione scanned Platform Nine and Three-Quarters one last time as the train began to move. Sitting opposite her, Ginny Weasley frowned and watched Hermione silently. The train soon left the station and the rest of London could be seen outside the window. Hermione faced front again and offered a rather weak smile of encouragement.

"I'm sure Ron and Harry made it on the train just fine," she told Ginny. "They've probably just come across some of our friends and-"

The door slid open and Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom burst in. "All right, Hermione?" Seamus beamed. "Seen Ron or Harry anywhere?"

Ginny cast an expectant look at Hermione, who rolled her eyes and shrugged. "No, I haven't."

"Bit odd, in' it?" Dean asked as he closed the door behind them and they sat down. "We thought they'd be with you."

"So did I," Hermione admitted, now beginning to worry much more than before. "Maybe I should have a nip around - see if I can't find them."

She had barely stood up when the door flew open again and Hermione found herself face to face with Draco Malfoy, flanked by the enormous Crabbe and Goyle.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione snapped.

Draco's steely eyes performed a quick scan of the car's occupants before settling on Hermione. "Nothing to do with you, Granger," he snarled at her. "Though I _did_ hear you lot were talking about my family not long ago. Care to explain what that was all about?"

Hermione knew he was referring to the day in Diagon Alley; Ron had sent a letter a few days later detailing what had happened to Percy because of it.

"Oh please," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Like we've got nothing better to do than talk about _you_."

She folded her arms and it was a long moment during which she and Draco tried to stare each other down. Finally he snorted and with a jerk of his head to call off Crabbe and Goyle, they continued down the train corridor. Hermione slammed the door and sank back into her seat with a sigh of relief.

"Wow, Hermione!" Neville was looking at her in awe. "You never even blinked!"

"Yeah, great," Hermione frowned. "But now we've got another problem."

"What's that?" Seamus asked.

"Well, it's obvious Malfoy was looking for Harry and Ron, right?" she said and was answered with a round of nods. "But if they aren't in here with us, and Malfoy hasn't found them yet," she screwed up her face in a frown, "then I don't think they're here at all."

"Hermione?" Dean sounded confused.

Hermione turned to look at him. "I think they missed the train."

--

Draco slouched back into the car near the front filled with Slytherins, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle. Flint stopped talking and they all looked at Draco disdainfully.

"I thought I told you to push off for a while," Flint told Draco. "We're talking."

"I _did_ push off," Draco folded his arms and set himself in his seat. "And now I'm back."

Pucey shot Draco an irritated look. "It's a _team_ meeting, mate," he said. "Go find someone else to annoy."

Draco returned with an irritated look of his own. "Team meeting? Why's _she_-" he motioned to Abby, "-here then? And what about the rest of the team? I've only just seen Bletchley out in the corridor. You haven't kicked him off the team an' all, have you?"

"No, we-"

"Besides," Draco cut Pucey off, "I've just _been_ 'looking for someone else to annoy'." He rolled his eyes, mocking Pucey's choice of words. "Potter's not here."

"What was that, again?" Flint's interest was suddenly sparked at the idea of Gryffindor missing their famous Seeker.

"I said, Potter's not on the train," Draco repeated. "Couldn't find him anywhere."

The four older Slytherins exchanged a pleased look. "Best news I've heard all day," Flint grinned and conceded to let Draco stay.

--

"_What_ are you three doing?" Angelina Johnson demanded of Fred, George and Lee, all of whom had their ears pressed against the wall of their car.

"Shh!" George waved his hand at her. "Slytherin Quidditch team next door. Might give away some of their secrets."

Angelina looked at Alicia Spinnet and both rolled their eyes as they took a seat in the boys' car. "George, listen," she said, "even if Marcus Flint _was_ thick enough to prattle on about their secret plays out in public - which he isn't - we don't need to hear them to be able to beat Slytherin. Oliver's got a new game plan he's worked on all summer, and I believe we are better than them."

"Besides, all you'll pick up from Slytherin is new ways to cheat," Alicia added.

"How true," George agreed as both he and Lee sat up straight. Fred stubbornly refused to stop listening. "Hey, Fred, leave it, mate," George said.

"Oh Fred, come off it, will you?" Angelina laughed. "You can eavesdrop on Abby Malfoy later."

"You what?" Fred wrinkled his nose in disgust as he sat up.

"Oh please," Angelina said. "Everyone _knows_ you've got a bit of a crush on her."

Fred's eyes nearly popped out of his head and the three boys began to howl with laughter. "Bloody hell, Angelina! Somebody's been feeding you a ruddy great pack of lies!"

"Oh, so you _don't_ fancy her then?" Alicia smirked.

"No chance!"

"So why _did_ you cast that spell on her then?"

All laughter stopped. "I-"

"Because you like her."

"Because I hate her, more like."

"Come on, Fred! It's been two years and you've never given a reason for doing it! Not even to Professor McGonagall," Angelina argued.

"I had a reason," Fred shrugged.

"And that was?" Alicia prompted.

"Nevermind."

The girls huffed angrily. "George, do you know why he did it?" Angelina asked.

"Leave me out of this," George grinned and went back to listening at the wall.

"Thanks for the help," Fred muttered to his twin.

"It's no big deal, Fred," Alicia said.

"You lot are making it a big deal," he retorted.

"You can fancy who you like, I just-"

"I DON'T FANCY HER!"

"Er, Fred?"

"WHAT?" he snapped at George.

"Harry _did_ come with us to the station this morning, didn't he?"

"He did."

"Only Malfoy's just said Harry's not on the train."

"WHAT?" Fred, Angelina, Alicia and Lee all shrieked in unison and soon five ears were pressed against the car wall. Not a word was spoken as they strained to hear what the Slytherins were saying.

--

"You're absolutely certain?" Higgs asked.

"We searched the whole bloody train, didn't we?" Malfoy said and Crabbe and Goyle nodded vigorously. "Not seen hide nor hair of him. So unless he's kipped up in someone's trunk, _he's not here_."

"This is fantastic!" Pucey laughed. "The only real weapon Gryffindor had last year was Potter! I mean, Marcus and I made mince pudding out of their Chasers, didn't we?"

Flint snickered at the thought of not only taking Angelina Johnson out of the game, but Keeper and Captain Oliver Wood as well. "Almost too good to be true," he said and noticed movement past the closed doors. "Hang on a tick, babe," he grinned at Abby (who was leaning against him) as he stood up. He flung the door open and called down the corridor, "All right there, Wood?"

Oliver Wood and Katie Bell turned around with identical confused looks. Oliver had just been excitedly telling her of a new strategy he'd cooked up for Quidditch this year ("Though I can't let you in on all the details now, of course. The walls have ears and all that."). Katie had been wondering how to politely tell him that since school hadn't even started yet, she really didn't care. Both had been taken completely off guard by Flint's greeting.

"How's that, Flint?" Wood asked as they cautiously walked back toward him.

Flint sneered. "Just extending a little courtesy to a fellow Captain. It's the name of the game, in' it?"

"Didn't think you knew the meaning of courtesy," Katie muttered, remembering Flint's brutal attacks on her teammates the previous year.

"Believe me, I do," Flint returned. "And I just wanted to wish you luck in finding a new Seeker. I'd suggest someone a little older this time. Seems first-years just don't have the devotion to see that they come back the next year. Tough break, mate."

Wood was more confused than ever and he surveyed the snickering faces of Pucey, Higgs, Crabbe, Goyle and both Malfoys in the car. "You've cracked, Flint," he shook his head. "I'll not replace Potter for anything, seeing as how he pulled a victory over _you_ lot last year."

Wood expected a much nastier reaction from Flint than the snorting laugh his comment received. "Right, then," Flint said. "Hope that works out for you." He laughed again and returned to the Slytherin car, slamming the door in Wood's face.

"What was he on about?" Wood raised an eyebrow.

"Ignore him," Katie rolled her eyes. "He's winding you up. He just doesn't want to accept that we beat them last year fair and square."

"Hmm, maybe," Wood frowned and noticed George Weasley waving them over from the next car down. He and Katie walked over and entered the car. "I don't suppose any of you know what Flint-"

"Harry's missed the train," Fred and George said together.

Wood's reaction was not unlike setting off a barrel of Filibusters Fabulous Wet-Start No-Heat Fireworks all at once.


	3. The Battle of Hogsmeade Station

The Flip Side

Chapter Three

Fred was still so hot under the collar over the argument with Angelina and Alicia that by the time the train arrived at Hogsmeade Station he was standing by himself out in the corridor. The rest of those of his group were still in the car, but Fred was too anxious to sit around. His face twisted into a scowl as he watched Flint and the rest of the Slytherins file out of the neighbouring car, all of them still laughing about their good fortune.

"Summat wrong, Weasley?" Flint sneered, catching Abby by the wrist before she could leave and pulling her close to him. She carefully shifted Nightshade to one arm to avoid getting him squashed before turning a sly gaze to Flint.

"Aye, I've only just realized this starts another year I've got to see your ugly mug everywhere I go," Fred muttered.

"Ooh, better be careful mate. I might take offence to that," Flint replied.

"I wasn't talking about you," Fred shot back, letting his gaze drift to Abby.

Any semblance of glee was wiped from the two Slytherins' faces. "You'd best watch yourself, Weasley," Flint warned.

"And you'd best get out of my way," Fred replied - not intimidated in the least - and stepped up so he was face-to-face with the Slytherin Captain. He was suddenly remembering the day in Diagon Alley and every other time Flint or Abby or any of the Slytherins had insulted him and his family. Something in his brain had been triggered and suddenly he wanted to pay them back for all of that. "And take that little slag with you."

Flint snapped and grabbed the front of Fred's robes and slammed him against the wall. Fred winced as the back of his head bounced off the hard surface. The sound startled Nightshade who dug his claws into Abby's shoulder. Abby yelped and dropped him and he bolted from the train like a Seeker after the Snitch. Abby's cry had momentarily distracted Flint, and Fred used the advantage to throw his knee up into his opponent's gut.

The action caught Flint off-guard and Fred felt the Slytherin's grip loosen on his robes. He had just enough time to wrench free and land a solid punch to Flint's jaw before the other recovered. Flint blocked Fred's next punch and brought his own fist forward, slamming it into Fred's nose with such strength that the Weasley twin was knocked to the floor.

George and Wood were out of the car like shots, as they now realized what was going on, and intercepted Flint before he could go after Fred and pound him into a bloody pulp. Abby, infuriated by the stinging claw marks on her shoulder, kicked Wood in the shin as hard as she could. Wood, who had not been expecting it, released Flint to nurse his throbbing leg and was the recipient of Flint's second punch.

By now the group was surrounded by a load of younger students, all chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" at the top of their lungs. From somewhere in the crowd a camera flashed. Fred swallowed the lump in his throat (along with the blood that trickled down from his nose) and leapt to his feet. He was seeing red and was blocking out the little voice in his head that was trying to tell him that Flint would tear him apart with his bare hands. Echoing that voice, coincidentally, was Angelina, who, flanked by Alicia and Katie (who were keeping Lee Jordan from joining the fray), was trying to hold him back. He could hardly hear her over the blood pounding in his ears.

Pucey and Higgs had returned, after having pushed their way back through the excited crowd. Pucey went straight for Wood and caught him before he could retaliate on Flint for the punch and the two exchanged blows. Higgs grabbed George from behind and pulled his arms behind his back, leaving him exposed for a free shot.

Fred's adrenaline surged as he saw his twin in trouble and he tore away from Angelina, charging back into the fight and driving his shoulder into Flint's solarplexis. He stumbled off-balance and Fred relentlessly continued his enraged assault (though it was not unlike punching a brick wall). George, meanwhile, planted his feet and sprang backward, slamming Higgs into the side of the train.

Abby watched the fight, gingerly trying to keep her distance (which proved difficult thanks to the growing number of cheering students joining the crowd, making the already stuffy corridor seem even smaller) and occasionally having to dodge as one scrap came too close. Her eyes burned with fury and she wished she could help, but she was smart enough to know that she was no match for any of the three Gryffindor boys involved. She had a sudden thought and stealthily pulled out her wand. All eyes were locked on the fight as she pointed it at Fred's back.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

_Almost_ all eyes were locked on the fight. Abby's wand flew out of her hand and landed not far from Alicia Spinnet, whom had her wand brandished in Abby's direction. She had been keeping watch on Abby and wondering when she would make her move. The two girls glared at each other as Angelina, Katie and Lee turned attention to them, realizing what had happened.

Abby and Alicia stalked toward each other; they stopped only when Wood crashed into the wall between them, but he was quickly back after Pucey.

"I knew it, I just _knew_ you could never stand a fair fight," Alicia spat. "What's the matter? Don't think your toy boy can handle our Fred?"

"You need to keep your nose out from where it doesn't belong, _Alicia_, "Abby returned.

"My nose is _exactly_ where it belongs, thank you," Alicia replied. "But, if you're so keen to join the fight, I'll gladly help you out."

"You _what_?"

"Aw, what is it then, Princess? Too good to get your hands mucky?"

"I'd just rather not have them touch the likes of _you_, if I can help it."

The girls stood at a stalemate, neither one _really_ wanting to make the first move. Several students in the crowd had noticed the confrontation and now the chanting had grown even louder. The six boys fought on, oblivious to the girls' situation. Angelina and Katie tried to shout sense to Alicia over the crowd. Lee's attention shifted across the way as he saw Draco Malfoy had pushed his way to the front of the crowd and was watching his sister expectantly.

Flint took hold of Fred and tossed him down the corridor before realizing he'd done so in the direction of the girls. Fred flew backward and crashed into Abby who, in turn, flew forward and crashed into Alicia. Both girls fell to the floor and Alicia, who had not really registered Fred's unintentional assistance in the matter (as he had already gone back after Flint), had taken it as Abby making the first move. She tore into Abby like a feral cat and Abby, who had certainly not meant for such a thing to happen, took a fistful of Alicia's hair and tried to fend her off.

Suddenly, over the chanting of the crowd, a deep voice roared. "Oi! Wha' the ruddy 'ell is goin' on in 'ere?"

It was Hagrid, the Hogwarts Gamekeeper, who was making his way with great difficulty through the spectators, each and every one of whom fell silent at the sound of his voice. The students squished against the walls to let him pass and as he did so he shooed them off the train. When he came to the site of the action, he reached out with his great hands and separated the closest pair: Fred and Flint. Both Pucey and Wood realized what was going on and pulled apart George and Higgs. Angelina, Katie and Lee stepped in to pry Alicia and Abby off each other.

"Jus' what in the name of all things good an' 'oly d'you lot think yer playin' at?" Hagrid demanded.

Flint and Fred did not break eye contact, though they were pinned against opposite walls of the corridor under Hagrid's enormous fists. In fact, they had barely even heard the Gamekeeper's question. Around them the sudden silence (save for the panting and wheezing of the exhausted fighters) was eerie and the tension was growing again. Angelina and Katie pulled Alicia (now sporting long scratches down the side of her face) to her feet; Lee was gaping at her in awe. Pucey, while keeping an eye on Wood, helped Abby up and they joined Higgs at Flint's side. Wood and George moved next to Fred, followed quickly by Lee and the girls.

"I'm warning you, Weasley," Flint growled, breaking the silence. Blood was trickling down his chin from a wide split in his lip. "Any funny business this year and I promise you won't live to see your next birthday."

"Righ', get outta 'ere," Hagrid smacked Flint upside the head and pointed to the exit. "Go on, clear off, an' don' you worry: Snape'll hear of all this," he called after them as the four Slytherins pushed their way off the train. "An' as fer you lot," he turned to the Gryffindors, "I'm awful disappointed in yeh. I mean, can' says I'm surprised at them four bein' involved in this sorta thing, but I never thought yeh'd sink teh ther level. Though' yeh had more sense'n tha'."

Fred looked up at the huge man and Hagrid frowned at the sight of the bloody nose as well as several bruises decorating his face. Flint had certainly dominated in that fight.

"You're right, Hagrid," Alicia spoke up. "It _was_ a daft thing to do, letting them get to us. But, I guess…sometimes they just go too far."

Hagrid's hairy face softened a bit. "Aye, well, tha' may be, Alicia, but i's still no excuse. Professor McGonagall'll be hearin' of this too, I'm afraid."

The Gryffindors nodded and slowly filed past Hagrid as the Gamekeeper ushered the rest of the students off the train.

* * *

Draco, who had been shooed off the train by Hagrid along with the rest of the students on his side of the corridor, watched as Flint, Abby, Pucey and Higgs filed down the steps. In his arms he held a trembling Nightshade, who he'd managed to locate hiding under a discarded copy of the _Daily Prophet._ With Crabbe and Goyle following, begging to know just what had happened, he sauntered over to the group.

"Get a load of the walking wounded," he drawled with a smirk plastered across his face. "Oh, and good form, sis."

"Get stuffed," Abby shot back, tenderly nursing the scratches adorning her neck and shoulders. "That was all that cow Alicia's fault."

Draco took one of Nightshade's paws and made a scratching motion while uttering a throaty _meow_. Nightshade angrily echoed him. Abby rolled her eyes and turned to Flint, who was sucking the wound on his bottom lip. She used the sleeve of her cloak to wipe the blood from his chin and then noticed his attention was focused elsewhere. She turned around and quickly found out why: the Gryffindors were getting off the train.

"C'mon, Marcus, leave it, hey?" she said softly, trying to make him look at her, but there was a certain gleam in his eye that told her she had no chance. Fred had already locked glares with him and he was aimed to walk deliberately closer to the Slytherins than was necessary. Pucey and Higgs (bearing the beginnings of a black eye apiece) watched their Captain anxiously, seemingly waiting for a trigger to set them off again, and it soon came. As Fred came into range, Flint threw an elbow into him.

Instantly the two boys had hold of each other's shirt collars, fists up and ready and willing to start the whole ordeal again. Pucey, Higgs, Crabbe and Goyle kept Wood, George and Lee at bay (though Draco had slunk back out of harm's way) and the students had quickly gathered round again. In fact, they very well might have picked up where they left off had it not been for Angelina and Abby, both of whom had without a second thought, dove between the two boys and forced them apart, screaming at them to stop. Had circumstances been different, there may have been a formation of respect between them, but then Abby glanced back and caught sight of Alicia. The look that passed between them would have sent a Hungarian Horntail running for cover.

"I though' I tol' you lot ter clear off!" Hagrid bellowed as he squeezed his way off the train. "Should'a known better than ter leave yeh teh yerselves! Go on! Get teh yer carriages!"

Flint and Fred finally broke eye contact and turned to their respective groups. The Slytherins went off in the direction of the waiting carriages and Hagrid watched them all the while to ensure they did not double back. Fred sighed deeply and for the first time noticed Percy standing not far off among the students. Standing at his side with her hand clasped in his was Ginny, watching him with wide eyes and tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh, no," Fred breathed. George followed his gaze and closed his eyes after spotting his crying sister. Both realized at that moment something they had never considered: she had seen.

Fred swallowed hard and he and George made their way to where their siblings stood. Lee made to follow but Wood held him back; this was between the Weasleys.

"Ginny-" Fred began as he and George kneeled down in front of her.

Ginny suddenly sprang away from Percy and threw her arms around both twins' necks. "I saw him hit you, Fred!" she sobbed into his shoulder. "I was getting off the train and then a cat ran by me and I wanted to know what had scared it. So I went down the other way and I saw him pop you on the nose! I wanted to help you - I _tried_ to come and help you, but Hermione stopped me."

Fred looked up and saw Hermione standing close by with Seamus, Dean and Neville.

"And then you ran out, George, and I saw you getting hurt too so we went and found Percy and then Percy told Hagrid," Ginny continued. "He wouldn't let me go back inside. Fred, what did you have to go and fight for? I thought he might really hurt you - I thought Hagrid might be too late to help you!"

Fred felt the corners of his eyes stinging and as he stroked his sister's bright red hair he glanced over at George, who looked just as upset as he was, and then up at Percy. He had his arms folded and his jaw set.

"Ginny," George softly said her name as he pulled her away to look into her eyes. "We're all right, hey? Just look and see, everything's all right."

"You don't look all right," she sniffled, wiping her nose and staring especially at the blood on Fred's face.

"_Well_, you know Charlie's given me _loads_ of worse thumpings than this," he winked and chucked her under the chin. She looked sceptical. "But you're right, Ginny, I am a great big git for fighting and you were right to get Percy." He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "At least now we know he's not the only Weasley with common sense."

Finally Ginny smiled and Fred wiped her tear-stained cheeks with his thumb. "I'm sorry I scared you, Ginny," he said. "It will never happen again."

"Swear?" she set the big brown eyes on him.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," both twins replied, making the respective hand motion across their chests. Ginny sniffed and hugged them both again.

Hagrid came up behind and when he spoke his voice was softer than it had been only a few minutes earlier. "Fred, George, let's go lads. Ye've got a banquet ter get to." He turned to Percy. "You'll take care of things 'ere, hey?"

"Of course I will," Percy's chest puffed out in pride.

"Righ' then, Ginny? Yer teh come w'me," Hagrid extended his giant hand to her. "Firs' years get ter ride across tha' ther lake. Wouldn' wan' ter miss tha'."

With another wink from Fred, Ginny reached up and took Hagrid's hand and they walked toward the lake as Hagrid called out, "Firs' years! Firs' years follow me!" and all the new students followed him for their boat ride. Fred and George stood and offered a weak smile to Percy. Needless to say, Percy did not look amused, and after sending Hermione, Neville, Dean and Seamus off, he turned to his brothers.

"I certainly hope the two of you have learned _some_thing from all of this," he looked at the twins imperiously.

"Oh, come off it, Perce, we feel bad enough as it is," George grumbled.

"Uh, yeah, _and_ you're wasting your breath, since we're to hear this lecture from old McGonagall soon enough," Fred agreed, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes, well, good, but it won't hurt either of you any to hear it twice. Maybe _some_thing will get through those thick heads of yours," Percy replied firmly. "Honestly, _why_ do you think I am _constantly_ after you two to take responsibility for your actions?"

"Dunno, Perce. Practicing so you can take over when mum finally gets fed up with us?" Fred folded his arms.

Percy glared at him in annoyance. "It just so _happens_ that, for whatever the reason, Ginny looks up to the both of you. And when she sees you acting in such a way, well, what you do affects a great many more people than _just_ yourselves."

Fred and George looked at each other. "Yeah, we know," they shrugged.

"Yes, well," Percy's icy glare began to melt, "any rate, are you both all right?"

The twins grinned. "'Course we are," George said.

"Aye, don' worry 'bout us, Perce," Fred went on. "Couple of right crackers, we are. Take a licking and keep-"

"Then I'll ask you both to get a move on and get into one of those carriages," Percy cut him off, pointing in the directions the rest of the students had gone.

The twins laughed and headed off. They had only gone a couple of steps, however, before George turned around again. "Oh, forgot to tell you, Perce, only Harry's missing and I'll wager our Ron's missing with him. Just thought you should know."

Percy shut his eyes and sighed. It had just been one of those days.


	4. Penalties and Provocations

The Flip Side

Chapter Four

The excitement of the Battle of Hogsmeade Station (as it came to be known by many of the younger students) was momentarily shelved in lieu of a new bit of news: Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had arrived after all, and in a flying car no less! Nobody was certain who had let the information slip in the first place, but soon the word had spread throughout Hogwarts like wildfire. The tension was especially heavy in Gryffindor Tower, where nearly everybody was crammed into the common room, anxiously awaiting to congratulate the two on their stroke of genius. Percy, however, was crammed in the common room, anxiously waiting to give the two a telling off.

When Harry and Ron finally _did_ show up, they didn't stay in the common room for long, much to everybody's chagrin. Catching sight of the irate Percy had considerably accelerated their escape to the second year boys' dormitory. Fred and George couldn't say it hadn't been a wise move. Percy had, after all, only just gotten warmed up on them back at the station. They didn't dare think about the degree of annoyance that he was capable of inflicting now.

The night was still young, however, and not everyone could so easily escape a lecture. Only moments after Harry and Ron had disappeared, in walked Professor McGonagall bearing her infamous tight-lipped expression. The room fell silent before she even opened her mouth.

"Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Oliver Wood and Alicia Spinnet, please accompany me to my office," she began, stating each name firmly. "The rest of you are to go straight to your dormitories. Lights out in fifteen minutes."

A collective groan rounded the common room and the students reluctantly began to trudge off to bed. Lee Jordan (who had been planning to listen on the stairs and was now more than slightly disappointed) thumped both twins on the back and silently assuring them that he would continue their scheme in the event that they did not return.

The Fat Lady tsk-tsked as McGonagall exited the common room followed by the four downcast Gryffindors (with Wood trying not to limp). Not a one dared speak a word until they reached her office and the door was closed behind them.

"Professor, I-"

"Not a word, Mr Wood, until I am quite finished," McGonagall interrupted him and took a seat at her desk. Wood closed his mouth and turned his eyes to the floor. McGonagall took a long moment to study each of them and the battle wounds they were sporting. One by one they began to squirm, wondering why she refused to yell and get it over with.

"I will begin by saying that I am absolutely disgusted and deeply ashamed by your behavior tonight," she said finally. "I _know_ that none of you were taught to act in such a manner, and I _seriously_ doubt that your parents would look lightly upon the matter."

Fred caught George's eye and they quickly forced the smiles from their faces; obviously McGonagall had not yet heard about the incident in Flourish and Blotts involving their father and one Lucius Malfoy. Their mother, on the other hand, would be a completely different story.

"Something funny, Weasleys?" she was looking over her glasses at them.

"No, ma'am. Nought," George was first to regain his composure.

"I should certainly think not," McGonagall sniffed and got to her feet. She circled round to the front of her desk and folded her arms, letting the tension build again. Fred had to bite his tongue to keep from breaking into sputtering nervous laughter. "Now," she began again, turning narrowed eyes on each one in turn, "do any of you have anything to say for yourselves?"

They shook their heads.

"Right then," she pursed her lips again. "Detention for each of you and not another word about it. Now, off to Madam Pomfrey and then straight back to your dormitories."

They practically ran from the room.

Professor McGonagall sat down at her desk again. She could understand that emotions of adolescents would sometimes get out of control. She was well aware that House rivalries spawned constant personal vendettas. She certainly expected the heated contention between the Quidditch players on and off the pitch. What bothered her most was the thought of reporting the ordeal to Professor Dumbledore. She couldn't get it out of her head that his eyes would twinkle, he would smile that familiar smile and then he would simply state that it should prove to be an interesting year and an exciting Quidditch season.

* * *

Flint, Abby, Pucey and Higgs scrambled out of Snape's dungeon office as quickly as was possible without tripping over each other, the Professor's closing threats following them into the corridor. Pucey looked back as the door slammed and shook his head.

"I've seen Snape angry before, but I don't ever remember hearing him shout that loud," he commented, wiggling his finger in his ear. They started on their way to the Hospital Wing.

"I reckon there's summat else has him upset," Higgs shrugged. "Maybe since he's not gotten the Defence Against the Dark Arts class again."

"Could be," Pucey conceded.

"Or maybe it's because Potter's come back after all," Higgs wondered. "Rotten luck, that is. I mean, I never had any real competition with Diggory or that Chang girl Ravenclaw picked up last year. Now all of a sudden Gryffindor turns up with this miracle Seeker."

"Leave it, mate," Pucey said as the group climbed a set of stairs. He was eyeing Flint warily.

Higgs took no notice. "I'm serious. I've got to find his weak point, well, unless we're counting on him getting injured _this_ year too."

"Terry, just _leave _it, will you?" Abby hissed, motioning to Flint.

Clearly Higgs couldn't take a hint. "There's got to be some way of bringing Gryffindor down a notch. I mean, ever since they got Potter they've been walking around like they own the bloody place. Wood can't keep his mouth shut-"

"He's not the only one," Pucey muttered.

"-and those _Weasleys_-"

That was the clincher. Flint had been grinding his teeth for some time now and finally he'd had enough. He stopped dead and spun around, drawing himself up to his full height: a good half-foot taller than Higgs. Pucey and Abby backed up a few steps. Higgs felt his stomach knot as Flint bore down on him, his dark eyes menacing.

"Shut up," he growled. "I don't want to hear another word on Potter or Wood or Weasley or _anything to do with Gryffindor_ _for the_ _rest of the night_. Just shut up."

Higgs nodded vigorously and Flint backed off. He took Abby's hand and they started off again as she tried her best to calm him down.

"He's in a mood," Higgs said after finding his voice again. His eyes were threatening to pop from their sockets.

Pucey shook his head and they hurried to catch up. They rounded the next corner and nearly collided with Flint and Abby, who had suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. The four of them were now standing just outside the Hospital Wing. Opposite them, having come from the other direction, were the Gryffindors.

"Oh _Lord_," Pucey and Higgs mumbled in unison.

Wood was trying to take control of the situation. "Look, everyone, what's happened tonight, happened. Let's just leave it, hey? We're not looking for trouble."

"Well, you found it," Flint sneered.

"Oh come _off_ it, Flint!" Alicia stamped her foot in annoyance. "If you lot got _half_ the lecture we just did, I can't imagine you _really_ wanting another go at it!"

"Marcus," Abby voice was strained with forced composure as she intertwined her fingers with his and brought his hand to her cheek. "They aren't worth the time. Let's just go, hey?" He looked down at her and seemed to be considering her.

"That's it, Abby, call off the hounds," George snickered under his breath.

"Couldn't've done _that_ two years ago," Fred whispered back. He didn't whisper quiet enough.

"How _dare_ you!" her steely blue eyes flashed as she snapped her head round. Her pale cheeks flushed as she tore her hand from Flint's and headed straight for Fred. "You bloody _insignificant_ little-"

"Abby, hold on a minute! Just calm down," Wood intercepted her and grabbed her shoulders to stop her onslaught.

"Get your _bloody_ hands _off_ her, Wood!" Flint exploded, set to tear the other's head off. Pucey, seeing that Abby would be caught in the middle, grabbed the back of Flint's cloak in an attempt to keep him from doing something quite daft when suddenly the door to the Hospital Wing flew open.

"_What_ is going on out here?" Madam Pomfrey bellowed. One look at the scene gave her the answer. Pucey was still hanging on to Flint, who was still dead set on Wood, who was still holding Abby. She, in turn, was glaring daggers at Fred, who, along with George, was trying not to laugh. Alicia was glowering at them in disbelief and Higgs was wearing a look of confusion as though he had no idea how the whole ordeal had even come about.

"Right, inside, the lot of you. Gryffindors on one side, Slytherins on the other, and if you so much as _look_ at each other you'll be lucky if you've finished your detentions by _Christmas_!"

The group separated and filed past Madam Pomfrey without a word. She, however, had words for each of them.

"Mr Wood, I'm surprised at you. Behavior such as this for a Captain? Disgraceful. And ah, yes, _both_ Weasley twins I see. Why am I not surprised? You'll be getting an early start this year, I imagine. Miss Spinnet, well, at least you aren't blue this time. I - _don't_ you give me that look, Mr Flint or I'll give you something to scowl about! Miss Malfoy, I suppose a 'welcome back' is in order, now wipe that pout off your face. It isn't becoming of a lady - I _heard_ that Mr Weasley! Well, well, Mr Pucey. Lord knows you've _sent_ enough patients my way, I suppose I should thank you for keeping me in a job, hmm? And Mr Higgs, well, if I had a Sickle for every one of _your_ visits I'd retire a happy woman. How you Seekers manage to live so long is beyond me."

As Higgs passed her she turned with her hands on her hips and a stern look on her face. "Right, that's the lot. Now sit tight and not a peep until I get back, understand?"

As soon as she was gone there was a collective stare-down between the two groups (a mixture of disgusted sneers, irritated scowls and cocky smirks) and a barrage of insults muttered just loud enough for the subject to hear. Everyone immediately hushed up when the door clicked open again, and they turned back to their own, muttering quietly amongst themselves as Madam Pomfrey bustled about and prepared the bandages.

"You know, you didn't have to do this, Fred," Alicia said after a moment's contemplation.

"Hey?" Fred raised an eyebrow.

"Starting a fight to prove Angelina and me wrong? We were only teasing, you know; we didn't mean ought by it. We only wanted to know about the spell."

"Oh bloody hell," Fred groaned.

"Just leave it, Alicia," George said.

"I'm only saying," she insisted. "I feel quite responsible for all this."

"What's are you on about?" Wood asked.

"It's nought," Fred replied quickly.

"Angelina and I were teasing him on the train," she explained. "Saying that he fancied Abby Malfoy."

"_Alicia_!"

"You _what_? What did all this come about?"

"Oh, you remember, Oliver? When he cast that spell on her two years ago?"

"So this whole mess was over _her_?"  
"No, we were only teasing. He doesn't _really_ like her."

"Alicia, shut _up_."

"Oh, _Fred_, you _don't_!"

"I thought this was to do with Quidditch! Oh, I don't _believe_ this!"

Wood was furious. If his face were to go any redder it was liable to burst into flames. Alicia was gaping at Fred, who had gone a bit red himself and was shaking his head, completely put out. George had his face turned away in a desperate attempt to hide that he was about to erupt into hysterics.

"Do you mean to tell me that I got this-" Wood pointed to where his chin had been split open, "-and _this_-" he rolled up his trouser leg to reveal the bruised lump on his shin, "-because of _her_?" He was shouting now, and pointing in Abby's general direction. The Slytherins were looking at him. Madam Pomfrey rushed over.

"I thought I told you to keep silent?" she said irritably.

Wood stood up without another word and stomped out of the room, trying harder than before not to limp, and Madam Pomfrey chased after him, demanding that he sit down and allow her to patch him up.

"Thanks, Alicia," Fred muttered. She just continued to stare at him, going over and over in her mind what she had to report to Angelina. "And thanks to you too, mate, for backing me up," he elbowed George.

"Pleasure," George sputtered, feeling as though his chest would explode. Fred smacked him on the back of his head. "Oi! Watch the lump there, you git!" he laughed and pushed his twin backward off the bed.

Fred pulled himself back up and in doing so caught Flint's eye. He swallowed the urge to stick out his tongue and instead cast a gleeful grin at the Slytherin Captain before flopping onto the bed. Flint watched him for a moment longer before tuning back to his group.

"What does he think he's playing at?" he growled.

"He's all talk," Abby assured him, latching onto his arm and leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Just a stupid kid," Pucey agreed, leaning nonchalantly against the wall with his arms folded. "Best ignore him, mate."

"I'd not mind knowing what they were talking about," Higgs shrugged sitting on the bed opposite Flint and Abby. "I mean, he clearly said summat about you, Abby. What if he - _ow_!" he reacted to a well-timed punch to the shoulder, courtesy of Pucey.

"I'll kill him," Flint said through clenched teeth. "I'll kill him if he tries anything on."

Abby and Pucey glared at a confused Higgs.


	5. Flying Rumours and Spilled Pumpkin Juice

The Flip Side

Chapter Five

It wasn't until first class the next day - Potions with the Gryffindors - that the matter was brought up again. Pucey (now with a full-blown shiner) and Abby had secured a table at the back of the room and waved Higgs over as he entered a few minutes later. Wood, who was right behind him, narrowed his eyes and took at seat furthest from them, which happened to be next to Percy Weasley. As Higgs sat down, Pucey punched him on the shoulder.

"What was _that_ for?" he asked angrily.

"Yesterday," Pucey replied.

"Well, I hate to remind you, but you did that already. Besides, I got my share, thanks," Higgs grumbled, glaring at Pucey through his own magnificent black eye.

"Obviously you weren't hit hard enough," Abby tossed her hair and gingerly scratched her neck while avoiding the itching gouges themselves.

"What did you think you were playing at, winding Marcus up like that?" Pucey was exasperated. "Are you that bloody thick that you can't tell when he's about to go completely mental?"

"Well, _yeah_, I guess I am, but I didn't do it on purpose," Higgs said.

"You know he has a temper," Pucey retorted.

"My bloody _cat_ knows he has a temper," Abby rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, Marcus only has patience for one pussy and it isn't Nightshade," Pucey winked at her.

"Shut up you!" she laughed and punched him playfully. He grinned and shoved her back.

Higgs leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table. "See, that's my problem," he said. "You two have been friends since First year, and Adrian, you and Flint knew each other before you came to Hogwarts. I never really hung out with you lot before I made the team."

"Hey, neither did I," said Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, as he took his seat at the table in front of Pucey. "And I know enough to stay clear of Flint on the warpath. Speaking of, sorry I didn't help out back on the train, mate," he frowned. "Couldn't get through that bloody crowd. Pity that, I would've loved to crack Wood's ugly mug. He's always saying he's the better Keeper."

"Took care of it for you, mate," Pucey winked and slapped Bletchley's hand.

"Any rate, Terry, that's why you've got to listen to us," Abby said. "We were telling you to shut it then."

"You _always_ tell me to shut it," Higgs grinned.

"It's always for a reason!" Pucey retorted.

"Mr Pucey," Snape's voice called from the front of the room. The three of them jumped; they hadn't noticed him come in. "Class has commenced. Now, if you and your friends don't mind, I'll ask you to be quiet, unless you've something to share with everyone?"

"Yeah: Terry's a brainless git," Pucey said loudly without hesitation. It was met with snickers from the class - Slytherin and Gryffindor alike. Even Wood smirked, though Percy shook his head in disgust.

"Yes, well, that may be, though it has nothing to do with our lesson today," Snape folded his arms and then went on to explain the potion they would be brewing that class.

"Thanks, mate," Higgs said sarcastically removing his feet from the table. He flicked a stray piece of fluxweed at Pucey as he began to set up his cauldron.

"Pleasure," Pucey grinned. "And any rate, don't worry about Marcus. Abby'll sort him out."

"Oh, right, thanks for that," she replied, copying down Snape's instructions for them to share.

* * *

Howlers erupted all over the school that day. Flint and Pucey both received theirs during lunch though neither took a great deal of notice, having gotten their share of Howlers in their time. Flint did grind his knuckles at a few of his father's comments but Pucey positively laughed when his mother's voice began to go after her screams reached a record length of five minutes. All attention immediately shifted across the Great Hall as a double-volume Howler exploded on Fred and George. Molly Weasley sounded absolutely livid as she went on about receiving the letter on them not ten seconds after sending Errol with Ron's Howler.

Alicia's turn came in Charms class and her father's bellowing left everyone with their jaws hanging open and poor little Professor Flitwick hiding under his desk. Later that afternoon, right in the middle of Herbology, the sixth year Slytherins and Ravenclaws were left stifling their laughter as Higgs's mother's Howler suggested his friends to be a bad influence (she herself having been a Ravenclaw).

It wasn't until supper that evening that both Abby and Wood got a response. Dumbledore had just stood to address the student body when a large tawny owl and the Malfoy eagle owl came soaring in, each clutching a scarlet envelope in its beak. Several students were forced to cover their ears as the bone-chilling shrieks of Mrs Wood competed with the infuriated hissing of Narcissa Malfoy.

"Well, then," Dumbledore said after both letters burst into flames. "Since Mrs Wood and Mrs Malfoy have said everything for me, let's eat."

Abby and Draco were both staring at the remains of the Howler as the food appeared on the table.

"Have _you_ ever heard mother yell like that?" Abby asked him.

"Only at the cat," Draco conceded and stuffed his mouth full of roast chicken. On either side of him, Crabbe and Goyle were loading their plates with enough food to feed a small army.

Abby poked at the ash with her fork and watched it expectantly. Pucey looked at her and grinned.

"It doesn't do ought else once it's finished, Abby," he laughed. "You've seen enough of mine and Marcus's to know that." Flint laughed in agreement.

"As it happens, I don't quite know what to do with it," she replied. "I've never gotten one."

"Give it here," Pucey wiped his fingers on his trousers and reached for the ashes. "I'll add it to my collection."

Suddenly his hand was swatted aside and Violet Parkinson forced her way between him and Abby. She groaned under her breath; Violet was a terrible gossip.

"Abigail! It's so good to see you!" she squealed as her long brown ponytail flopped in Pucey's face. "We didn't get to catch up properly last night and I haven't been able to get you alone _all day_!"

Abby tried not to laugh at the faces Pucey was making behind Violet's back. She held her composure and half-smiled at her roommate. "Yes, _dreadful_ shame, Violet. Don't know _how_ we could have let that happen. We'll just have to set a time to put things right again."

"Oh, and you'll never _believe_ what I've only just heard!" Violet continued excitedly, not catching Abby's meaning. "My darling sister Pansy overheard Padma and Parvati Patil talking at lunch - do you know them? No, I suppose you wouldn't. Second years - not important. Any rate, Parvati heard from Hermione Granger who heard from Ronald Weasley that his brothers have _only_ been plotting nearly all summer to-"

Pucey knocked his pumpkin juice over and it spilled all down Violet's cloak and jumper. She gasped and leapt to her feet.

"Oh dear, would you look at that," Pucey feigned concern. "Terribly sorry, Violet. Me and my clumsiness."

"Nevermind, Adrian, nevermind. It's quite alright," Violet assured him, dabbing at her robes.

"I'll help you get cleaned up, shall I?" Abby stood, avoiding Flint's questioning glance. Violet made to thank her but clammed up as Abby grabbed her hand and dragged her away. Flint watched them go and a frown crossed his face.

"What did-"

"Pass the pumpkin juice, will you mate?" Pucey interrupted him, pointing to the jug. All eyes were on Flint as he obliged, still suspiciously watching Abby and Violet as they left the Great Hall.

"Did she say-"

"Who, Violet? Wasn't listening," Pucey steered him off topic again. "You know, gossip and girl-talk - not really my bag."

"She's never got ought important to say," Higgs nodded from the other side of Flint, trying to look uninterested.

"Didn't she say summat about Weasley?" Draco snickered and quickly hid his grin in his pumpkin juice.

Flint's nostrils flared and his stare burned a hole in Fred Weasley's back.

Pucey grabbed the Howler ashes and dumped them into Draco's mashed potatoes.

* * *

Once outside the Great Hall, Abby stopped and pulled Violet around to face her.

"If I didn't know your gob was bigger than your brain I'd _swear_ you were trying summat on!" she hissed at the pumpkin juice-soaked girl.

"Abigail, _what_ are you on about?" Violet was genuinely confused.

"If you only kept your ears open _half_ as much as you do, you would _still_ have heard who started the row last night," Abby explained.

"Fred Weasley had a go at your Marcus," Violet proved her skill. "But I don't see - _oh_."

"I spent the better part of the day between classes calming him down," the other continued. "And now you've run your mouth and the whole bloody mess could start again."

She began to walk and Violet quickly followed. "Abigail, I don't get it. Even if I _have_ upset him again, I don't see what's put the bug in your bottom. I thought you _liked_ it when Marcus fought over you, like it turns you on or summat?"

"It _does_," Abby smirked, "and it's not that."

They entered the washroom and Violet turned on the cold water and removed her cloak followed by her grey jumper. "Well, what then? Because if it were _me_, I'd say anything to have my big strong lad knock about Fred Weasley. _Especially_ with what the Gryffindors are saying."

"What's that then?" Abby sat on one of the sinks.

"That he fancies you."

"You what?" Abby scoffed and wrinkled her nose. "That's a right laugh."

"That's what Oliver Wood was grumbling about to Percy Weasley in Potions this morning - _honestly_ Abigail, don't you listen to _anything_?"

"I try not or I'd end up like you."

"Well, _apparently_ it's all Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet can talk about," Violet went on, ignoring Abby's comment and scrubbing her robes. "Though I don't know first hand; I'll have to speak with _our_ fourth year girls. But I heard Oliver, at any rate, and _he_ heard from Fred himself, so there you are."

"Go on," Abby hopped off the sink and turned to fix her hair in the mirror. "Everything you just said is completely mad - common sense would tell you that."

"Well, you can believe what you like, love, but I'm only saying what I've heard," Violet said and wrung the water from her robes and then moved on to her jumper. "As for me, I believe it. Why else would he have cast that spell on you, hey? Remember that?"

"_No_, I don't," the other shot back in a snotty tone.

"Well, _nobody_ seems to know why he did it-"

"Because I insulted his family, you daft cow!" Abby rolled her eyes and pushed a blonde curl back into place.

"Aye, but Weasleys get insulted all the _time_ so they've got a thick skin about that sort of thing," Violet insisted. "No, he _definitely_ fancies you. It's the same as knocking a girl's books down or chucking a dirty great spider in her lap. Here, how did Marcus say he fancied you?"

"He took me behind the changerooms after a Quidditch match and-"

"Right, right, sorry I asked," Violet wrinkled her nose.

"He was all sweaty from knocking about nearly all the Hufflepuff team too," Abby said dreamily. "Brutal game. Made Captain next year because of it."

Violet was staring at her. "I'd say you were sick only I see what you mean. He's got that..._darkness_ to him that's dead sexy. Plus he's _such_ a rebel, like the rules don't apply to him, you know?"

Both girls sighed heavily.

"Hey, you!" Violet snapped back into reality. "You put me off topic. Why don't you want Marcus to have a go at Fred? You _aren't _afraid of him, like he'll cast another spell?"

The other snorted in reply.

"What is it then?"

"Any number of things," Abby shrugged, leaning closer to the mirror and wiping a minute smudge from her nose. "A very bloody good reason being that I just got a Howler from Mother and I don't want one from Daddy too."

"Hmm, there is that," Violet draped her cloak over a sink and her jumper over another, and then turned to the mirror as well. "Must keep the trust fund in mind."

"Yes and besides _that_ and the lecture from Snape, I thought perhaps it would be a daft idea to let Marcus go completely mental and start a row in the Great Hall _with all the teachers watching_, wouldn't it?" She took one last inspection in the mirror and smiled in satisfaction.

"Well, at least it's a _sensible_ reason," Violet adjusted her ponytail. "I thought maybe you had a crush on him."

"Who?"

"Fred Weasley."

"Don't be daft."

"I were only joking!" Violet laughed.

"Yes, well, the next time you've got summat to tell me, just say you need to speak with me, all right?" Abby had her hands on her hips.

"Mum's the word till we're alone, darling," Violet drew her fingers across her lips.

"I'm sure," the other went to the door. "Good night."

A thought occurred to Violet as she watched Abby leave. "Abigail!" she called after her. "Does this mean Adrian spilled his juice on _purpose_?"

* * *

"Throw her in the lake!"

Fred and George slowly turned their heads to look at Lee. "I _meant_ 'what are we going to do _about Oliver_?', Lee," George restated himself. "He hasn't spoken to us all day."

"Oh. I thought you meant-"

"We _know_ what you thought, you git," Fred laughed. "But I reckon we'd best put those plans on hold for a while at least."

"You _what_? Why?"

"Because if we do ought now, Alicia and Angelina will have a field day broadcasting all the gory details of Fred's dirty little affair with Abby Malfoy," George grinned.

Fred shook his head. "Honestly, the rubbish those birds come up with."

The three of them were sitting off in one corner of the Gryffindor common room. Sitting far enough away so that they couldn't overhear them were Angelina and Alicia, immersed in their whispered conversation. Fred squirmed every time they stole a glance at him and returned with a look of his own.

"That's not even the lot of what you have to worry about," George motioned over his shoulder as Percy entered the common room through the portrait hole. He glared at the twins and then quickened his pace.

"Bloody hell," Fred grumbled. "Everybody's taking this so seriously. It's doing me head in; I've got to get out of here. Up to sneaking some nosh from the kitchen?"

"Aye, you're on," George grinned and the three of them rose and hurried to the portrait hole before Percy could come back and demand to know what they thought they were doing. As they passed the sofas in front of the fireplace they overheard a bit of Oliver Wood's distressed conversation with Katie Bell.

"Violent tendencies? She can't be serious!"

"Now, Oliver, people don't always mean what's said in Howlers. I'm sure your mother was only-"

"You don't understand, Katie. I'd rather _fail_ every exam this year than give up Quidditch! Violent tendencies -_ honestly_, what is she playing at? She's trying to scare me, she is, but she's bloody mad. I can tell you and her and anyone else with full confidence that fight had _nought to do with Quidditch!_"


	6. A Painful Rejection

The Flip Side

Chapter Six

By breakfast the next morning the entire school had heard that Fred Weasley fancied Abby Malfoy. The Great Hall buzzed with whispers up and down the house tables. Third years and above were looking back and forth between the two, trying to make up their own minds whether it was true or not, and receiving Death Glares from Flint (who was sitting closer to Abby than normal with one arm around her shoulders and eating with his free hand). First and seconds years madly tried to find out who Abby Malfoy was (most first years weren't even quite sure who Fred Weasley was either), though they knew the name from the constant renditions of the Hogsmeade punch-up.

Fred was really getting annoyed and constantly changed topics by telling jokes. Abby simply ignored the questioning looks and inspected her fingernails, letting Flint's scowls do their job.

Finally the mail came ("About bloody time!") and all attention was diverted away from the two on which it had previously been centred. Abby looked up as her family's eagle owl soared toward the Slytherin table and first dropped a package of sweets into Draco's lap, followed by a pair of letters into her outstretched hand. She quickly checked them; neither envelope was red.

"What did you get, Abby?" Pucey said after stuffing his mouthful of toast into one cheek.

"A letter from Daddy," she replied and then pulled off the Spellotape binding the second envelope to the first. This one had no name on it. "And something else."

"What does it say?" Draco demanded of Lucius's letter. He had smiled triumphantly over the sweets but was now quite jealous that their father had written to her and not to him.

Abby carefully broke the seal and skimmed through the letter, reading the interesting bits aloud. "'I am certain that you were in no way responsible for what happened on the train, Dearest. Undoubtedly it was all down to that boyfr-' er," she stopped and read further along after a quick glance at Flint, who was busy staring down a Hufflepuff fifth year and hadn't noticed. Pucey, Higgs and Draco snickered; Crabbe and Goyle followed suit though they had no idea what was so funny.

"'So sorry you had to receive a Howler. It is so dreadfully undignified,'" Abby continued. "'Mind you, I do not want to hear of any more nonsense. Keep away from those Weasleys; they've absolutely no dignity or any semblance of self-control.'"

"How very true," Draco sneered.

"'The charm you wanted from Borgin & Burkes is on backorder. Not to worry; it should be along soon.' _Brilliant_," she said happily. "Blah, blah, blah - oh, 'and tell Draco that everything is in hand regarding our little discussion.' What's this then?" She looked at her brother.

"You'll know soon enough, I imagine," he replied with a mischievous smirk.

She rolled her eyes at him and tried to pretend as though she didn't care. "'My best regards to the both of you' - and there's a postscript." She raised an eyebrow. It wasn't often that Lucius Malfoy neglected to mention something in the main body of his letter. "'The unmarked envelope is for Marcus. See that he gets it, Princess.'" She looked up from the letter. "Daddy's been acting very odd lately, but I never thought I'd live to see the day he'd write to you, Marcus."

"Very odd." There was a knowing light in Draco's eyes. Flint, however, said nothing.

"Oi! Are you listening?" She poked him in the ribs.

Flint snapped back to reality. "Sorry, babe. I was miles away just then."

Abby smiled and tenderly rubbed his leg. "You need to relax. Read this; Daddy's sent it to you."

"No chance," Flint shook his head. "It'll explode or summat."

"Oh, go on," Abby scolded. "Here, I'll open it for you." She broke the seal and handed it to him. "What does it say?"

Flint licked the toast crumbs from his fingers and then accepted the letter and began to read. "'Mr Flint, I shall take this opportunity to ask you not to share this letter with anybody; it is for your eyes only.'"

"Keep going then," Pucey urged. "This is bound to be good." He (and anyone else within earshot) was listening intently.

"Sorry, _Dad_," Flint grinned at the letter and continued. "'Over the past several years I have taken _special_ interest in your Quidditch matches. Admittedly, this was in order to keep a closer eye on you and to ensure your intentions toward my daughter were purely, shall we say, _honourable_.'"

The table erupted into laughter; Flint even had quite a time getting the last word out. Pucey actually began to choke on his toast and Flint had to reach around Abby to bang him on the back before continuing.

"'In any case,'" Flint's voice wobbled. "'I am thoroughly impressed with your playing style and your Captaining skills. Aside from a minor setback last year, Slytherin has by far the best team I have seen in quite some time and much of this is down to you.' I'm not sure what to make of this," he admitted, still clearing the last bits of laughter from his throat. "Your father's never complimented me before."

"He wants summat, I'll wager," Higgs said as he tried to peek over Flint's shoulder. Draco was biting his lip, seemingly waiting for something.

"Hold on, here it is," Flint assured his audience and pushed Higgs away. "'Therefore I have decided to personally sponsor the team this year. A set of matching broomsticks would certainly be professional. I've heard the newest model of the Nimbus series is now available-'"

"The _Nimbus Two Thousand and One_?" Pucey blanched and very nearly fell over backwards. Higgs began to choke now but Flint was too stunned to notice. Down the table a little, Bletchley's jaw practically dropped into his plate and the third Chaser, Warrington, spit his pumpkin juice all over Violet Parkinson ("Really now! This is getting ridiculous!"). Beaters Derrick and Bole just stared at Flint with eyes as round as saucers. Higgs began to turn purple and finally got Flint's attention. The Captain banged him on the back harder than intended.

"Is he _serious_?" Higgs wheezed as his natural colour returned to his face.

Flint's eyes turned back to the letter. "'I've heard the newest model of the Nimbus series is now available and it is only logical for the best to have the best. I ask only one thing in return: my son Draco must be guaranteed a position on the team. Personally, I believe him well suited for Seeker.

"'Thank you for your time, Mr Flint. Naturally, I shall be expecting an immediate reply. I trust there will not be any problems.'" Flint's voice trailed off as he came to the end. There was an uneasy silence before Higgs finally spoke up.

"Well, it's all well and good to him, but we've already _got_ a Seeker, right mate?" He looked at Flint. The older boy didn't reply as he read 'newest model of the Nimbus series' over and over. "Adrian?" Higgs turned to Pucey, who quickly looked away and took another mouthful of toast.

Higgs looked across the table at Draco and shot him the darkest Death Glare he could manage.

* * *

Higgs did not walk with the others on the way back to the Slytherin common room after breakfast. He stomped into the sixth year boys' dormitory and angrily chucked his belongings about in search of his Transfiguration textbook. Pucey slid into the room after carefully peeking inside.

"Terry? Call me crazy, but Bletch has it in his head that you might be upset—" He ducked as a shinguard came flying at his head. "Right. I suppose I owe him a Galleon then."

"Thanks for standing up for me back then," Higgs snapped sarcastically. "I've worked just as hard as you or anyone on that team since I made it! Now, I get broomed for a _broom_, and you look the other way! I thought we were mates."

"Aw, don't be like that," Pucey groaned. "We _are_ mates."

"You've a funny way of showing it," Higgs snarled.

"Look, you're still on the team," Pucey insisted. "Flint won't give you the push - no chance. I mean, all last year he was looking to replace Warrington, you heard him."

"Warrington's a _Chaser_," Higgs pointed out. "It's _Seeker_ Malfoy's after - _my _position."

"But Warrington wasn't getting a lot of mine and Flint's plays, and we didn't want to pull Montague off reserve just yet - but who knows us better than you?" Pucey argued. "So you play Chaser this year? Who cares?"

"I do! I was trained for Seeker! I'm better suited! We don't even know if Malfoy's any good at all!"

"So _you_ train him then, and work the rotten beggar till he's too knackered to mouth off." Pucey grinned and uncovered his own Transfiguration textbook. Higgs still looked uncertain. "Come on, mate, you only had one challenge as Seeker as it was, hey?" Higgs nodded. "So a new position is a brilliant challenge! Leave Potter to Malfoy - who knows? Maybe he can get under his skin enough to throw him off his game."

"Maybe Chaser wouldn't be so bad," Higgs admitted.

"Exactly. Wood won't know what hit him, Davies doesn't stand a chance, and, well, we won't even mention Hufflepuff." Pucey winked and held out his hand. "How about it, mate?"

"You're on," Higgs agreed, but crushed Pucey's hand just the same, letting him know he wasn't quite off the hook for leaving him high and dry at breakfast.

"Fantastic," Pucey nodded. "Now we'd better get to class or old McGonagall will add another night's detention to what Snape's already given us."

They hurried from the room and were joined by Bletchley, Abby and Violet, who had all been listening at the door. Bletchley grinned as Pucey dropped a golden Galleon into his waiting hand.

* * *

Flint had eagerly agreed with Pucey's suggestion to move Higgs to Chaser and that evening told Warrington straight out (and rather harshly) that he'd be warming the bench as a reserve that season. Needless to say, Warrington hadn't been pleased and, as Flint began his letter to Lucius Malfoy, had gone to vent his frustrations on his dorm wall, leaving a fist-sized mark (in _stone_, no less) in the process.

When Flint left for the Owlery to send the completed letter stating his acceptance of Lucius's generous offer, Abby grabbed Violet's hand and suggested they go for a walk. Violet understood and the two girls quickly scurried from the sparsely populated Slytherin common room.

"Abigail, what is it?" Violet asked as they climbed the stairs out of the dungeons. "Is something the matter?"

"Dunno," Abby sighed, folded her arms and leaned against the stone wall. "I suppose I was just caught off-guard or summat. After all, it's Tuesday night - first week of school - and there's already more gossip about me than all fourth year."

"You couldn't buy better publicity," Violet winked. "Any rate, it's never bothered you before."

"But it's all started at once and I've not even done ought, really, apart from kicking Oliver Wood."

"Your reputation precedes you."

"It's all down to those Gryffindors."

"Oh, they're just jealous," the other nodded, and then cocked her head to the side. "But we've been over all this, Abigail - Fred Weasley and all his rubbish isn't worth a wooden Knut. What's really putting your back up? This business with your brother, perhaps?"

"I _can't_ understand Daddy's reasoning," Abby admitted. "All this to give Draco a chance to get at Harry Potter - _that's_ what it boils down to. Draco _only_ whined about him all summer." She rolled her eyes for the millionth time that day. "But Terry's my friend and I felt dead rotten not saying ought to Marcus."

"Oh, Terrence is all right; Adrian sorted him out so you've nought to worry about with them," Violet assured her. "And as for the rest of it, well, you've got to ignore it. All this rubbish will blow over by Saturday. Take your father's advice and keep away from those Weasleys - _especially_ you-know-who. People will soon forget if they've nought to go on."

"Though I'm _sure_ you'll do your best reminding them," Abby retorted.

"Must keep busy, after all, you understand," Violet joked.

"_Oi_, look out!" Abby hissed suddenly and dragged Violet around a corner at the sight of movement down the other side of the corridor. Both girls peeked out and groaned; it was Percy Weasley on his Prefect Patrol.

"That's all I need," Abby sneered and looked around. They were right outside the Potions classroom. "Let's nip in here for a bit, all right?"

"Yeah, all right," Violet nodded. "I've got better things to do than hear a lecture from Perfect Prefect Percy Weasley."

"Me and all," Abby agreed as the two girls pushed open the heavy door. The dungeon classroom was even creepier at night as the contents of the little vials and flasks that lined the back shelves glowed eerie shades of green and yellow. Somewhere in the shadows they could hear a cauldron bubbling a very thick-sounding liquid. "Let's hope Snape isn't about."

"Oh, he's probably out skulking around Professor Lockhart's office organizing a clever plan for a very unfortunate accident," Violet winked as she sat on the corner of one of the tables.

"Leaving him as the only teacher qualified to take over Defense Against the Dark Arts," Abby finished for her. "Not a bad idea. Maybe we should let him in on it, hey?"

"Oh, Professor Lockhart isn't so bad," Violet said rather dreamily.

"Oh no, not you _too._" Abby screwed up her face in disgust.

"Well, I mean, he's a very good teacher." Violet's cheeks flushed as she spoke.

Abby shook her head and opened the classroom door a crack. "Seriously, I hope Snape is out after Lockhart. I don't like having to hide from a bloody Weasley, but I like running into Snape even less."

"Come off it, Abigail," Violet scoffed as she tossed her hair. "Snape's always had a soft spot for you."

"Not after Sunday night he doesn't," Abby rolled her eyes and peered out into the hallway. Violet didn't say anything and both girls were quiet until Abby broke the silence again. "I wish I hadn't come back here."

Violet's head snapped up to regard her friend. "You what? Because you've fallen out of Professor Snape's favour?"

"_No_, no, I don't care about old Snape," Abby snorted.

"How do you mean, then?"

"I don't know," Abby sighed, listening carefully for any activity in the corridor. "I had such a brilliant year at Durmstrang - though I'm not supposed to talk about it, really. All that secrecy nonsense." Violet nodded her understanding, waiting for Abby to continue.

"And certainly I missed Marcus and that lot…" Abby waited until Violet huffed angrily. "_And_ you love, I'm only teasing. But, well, I've got a rotten feeling about this year, and that isn't Trelawney rubbish I'm telling you either," she stated firmly. Professor Trelawney was their Divination teacher, and had a habit of making very silly and absurd predictions. "I'm just not certain I should have come back."

"Abigail, oh, you're only getting yourself worked up over nought," Violet assured her as she joined her friend's side at the doorway. "The first week is _always_ dreadful. It will get better, you'll see."

"_Well_, if you're so sure," Abby smirked and then opened the door a bit more. "Here, I think the coast is clear."

"Right, let's get back then," Violet nodded and they crept out into the corridor and quietly (as was possible with a creaky dungeon door) closed the classroom behind them.

They hurried to the hidden entrance to the Slytherin common room and Violet was just about to give the password when the wall slid open to reveal Flint standing in the opening. He looked just as surprised to see them as they were to see him.

"Marcus?" Abby raised an eyebrow.

"I was about to go look for you," Flint admitted. "We've changed the password."

"Already?" Violet sounded skeptical. "To what?"

"_Nimbus Two Thousand and One_," he grinned.

"Always with Quidditch," Violet huffed as the three walked into the common room. "You lot are beginning to sound like that Oliver Wood."

"Oi! Watch it," warned Pucey from one of the couches. Higgs sat beside him, engrossed in an old book, and Bletchley was on the floor in front of the fireplace, apparently taking a nap. Draco and Pansy Parkinson, with Nightshade between them, occupied the other couch. Flint plopped himself down in the free armchair and beckoned for Abby to sit on his lap.

"Well, it's true," Violet argued, sitting on the arm of the sofa next to Pucey. "There's more to life than your silly sport, you know."

"Like what?" Pucey challenged.

Violet turned to Abby for help. "Don't look at me," she said, cuddling up to Flint. "I can't think of ought."

"There's _loads_ of stuff more important," Violet responded to Pucey's grin. "Like, err—"

"Friendship?" Pansy suggested absently, letting her eyes flutter to Draco as she pet Nightshade, who was purring happily.

"Exactly! Thank you, love." Violet smiled appreciatively.

"Funny how my best mates are on the Quidditch team," Pucey replied calmly.

"You were mates _before_ though - oh, nevermind that, then," Violet furrowed her eyebrows and turned to Flint and Abby. "What about you, Marcus? Isn't Abigail more important than some silly match?"

"Right up until the starting whistle, aye," Flint grinned.

"Cheeky beggar." Abby poked his ribs.

"Plus, their being together is all down to Quidditch," Pucey added.

"He's got you there, Vi," Flint agreed.

Violet narrowed her eyes. "What about...studying for exams?"

"On a game day?" Pucey gasped sarcastically, seeing that she was getting desperate. "Never! Must keep focused, after all."

"And I'd suggest embarrassing the Gryffindors, but we do that in Quidditch," Bletchley said as he opened his eyes and laughed, reaching back to slap Pucey's hand. Violet scowled.

"How about Professor Lockhart's classes?" Pansy said dreamily. She'd just had her first Defense Against the Dark Arts class that day.

"You've _got_ to be joking," Pucey groaned.

"Kicking Mrs Norris?" Flint proposed.

"Now you're on to summat!" Pucey laughed.

"Loyalty," Higgs said without taking his eyes off the book. Flint and Pucey cleared their throats and looked away. Violet bit her lip, wondering if she'd accidentally re-opened a can of worms.

Draco looked slyly at his sister. "Fred Weasley."

"Oi! Stuff it, you!" she snapped and threw a pillow at him. Nightshade hissed and jumped off the sofa, and then padded indignantly to the girls' dormitory.

"Well, nobody disagreed when I said you might've gone looking for him," Draco returned.

"You're mental, you are," she rolled her eyes, and then something occurred to her and she turned to look at Flint. "Is that the real reason you were coming to find me? You thought I'd gone off in some dirty little cupboard with _him_? Is that it?"

"I'm going to _kill_ you, Malfoy," Flint growled at Draco, who was doing a bad job at containing his laughter as tears began streaming down his cheeks.

"Oh, I don't _believe_ this!" Abby jumped off Flint's lap.

"You've got it all wrong, Abby! I was coming to look for you anyway!" Flint jumped up as well. "I can't stop the little git from opening his bloody gob!"

"Aye, but he gave you more incentive, didn't he?" She had her hands on her hips.

"I don't believe _any_ of that rubbish!" he shot back. They were shouting full on now, and had seemingly forgotten anyone else was in the room - or trying to sleep for that matter. The doorway to the dormitories was soon crowded with those driven from their beds by curiosity.

"Is that right?" Abby demanded.

"That's right, yeah! Unless there _is_ summat to it all?"

Flint immediately regretted saying that as a darkness crossed Abby's face and a collective hush flew around the room.

"How _dare_ you—"

"Abby, I didn't mean that, I'm sorry," Flint apologized. He was suddenly aware that all eyes were on him and shot a Death Glare into the crowd. "What are _you _lot staring at?" he snarled and everyone looked away until he turned back to Abby. "Just listen for a minute—"

"No, I don't think so."

"Oh, come off it, Abby," he growled and grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the corner of the room. Their conversation continued in angry whispers but they were secluded enough that nobody could hear them. Bletchley looked at Higgs who looked at Pucey who looked at Violet.

The silence was deafening.

"Well, that went well," Draco smiled and was subject to a barrage of pillows. Pansy squealed and dove out of the way.

"What are we to do?" Violet wrung her hands as the crowd in the doorway began to dissipate.

"Here, go on and have a listen." Pucey pushed her off the arm of the sofa.

"Me? What for?" Her voice raised an octave.

"Well, you hear everything! So, go and see if they're still fighting," he explained.

Violet took a tentative step in Flint and Abby's direction; both still looked upset but not quite so furious. She hesitated and then sat down again.

"No chance," she shook her head. "Any rate, _you_ knew she had gone for a walk with me, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Pucey nodded. "So what?"

"Flaming heck, Adrian, you could have told this one to push off!" Violet waved her hand at Draco.

"Eh, I'm still here," Draco reminded her.

"Nobody stands up for anybody here," Higgs grumbled.

"You're not still on about _that_, are you?" Pucey groaned. "I thought we'd settled that!"

"Come on, lads, just leave it, hey?" Bletchley said.

Violet looked from Pucey and Higgs back to Flint and Abby. She was smiling coyly and he was brushing his fingers up and down her arm. "Here, see?" She pointed in their direction. "If they can patch things up, then so can you."

Higgs, Pucey, Bletchley, Draco and Pansy all looked in the indicated direction. Draco wrinkled his nose ("That was quick.") and Pansy sighed and looked sideways at him. The three older boys looked relieved, and then turned to face each other.

"Are we cool?" Pucey asked Higgs.

"Go on then," Higgs nodded.

"Brilliant." Bletchley lay back down by the fire.

"This whole bit does add to my point, though," Pucey said.

"Hey?" Higgs wrinkled his nose.

"Well, what was this whole row started over?" he asked and was met with blank stares. "Fred Weasley," he answered himself. "And Fred Weasley plays Quidditch. Therefore-"

"Oh, _honestly_!" Violet stamped her foot. "Only you, Adrian! I for one have had enough for this evening. Goodnight, everybody; I need my beauty sleep."

"See you in a fortnight, then," Pucey winked at her as she left, ushering the last of the stragglers back to bed.


	7. Brats, Snobs and Broomsticks

The Flip Side

Chapter Seven

Fred and Abby did as they should and avoided each other for the rest of the week, so by Friday the rumours had died down. After their last class that afternoon, Fred and George entered the Gryffindor common room and looked around. Only a few people were present: Harry and Ron were playing chess, Ginny was by herself writing something, and a few third year girls were chattering by the fire. The twins heaved themselves onto the large sofa closest to them, kicked off their trainers and stretched out.

"I thought this week would never finish," Fred sighed in relief.

"Really? I though you were enjoying all the attention." George grinned at his brother, who gave an annoyed snort. "I'm only joking, Fred. It _is_ good to have things back the way they should."

"Does that mean we're back on, then?" Lee asked excitedly as he entered the room through the portrait hole.

"Cool it, mate," Fred laughed. "We've got all year."

"Oh, you _aren't_ serious, Fred?" Hermione piped up. The three turned to look at her; she had been reading a rather large book that had hidden her from view and they hadn't noticed she was there. She was sitting with Harry and Ron, who had stopped their chess game to look at her as well.

"Go on, Hermione," Fred replied. "Surely there's no love lost between you and a Malfoy."

"That isn't the point," she stated firmly, wearing a face quite like Professor McGonagall's. "I just don't see why you would want to go about causing all sorts with that lot again! I should think this past week would have discouraged you from getting into any more trouble."

"You don't know him very well then," Ron told her. "_Nothing_ discourages him."

"Not for long, in any case," George agreed.

"If it makes you feel better, we can get back at all of them rather than just her?" Fred offered.

"How does _that_ help?" Hermione argued.

"Don't hurt," Fred shrugged.

Hermione scowled and her cheeks burned scarlet. "You're impossible!" she burst. "Do what you like but _don't_ say I didn't warn you!"

"Right then, now that's settled," Fred grinned.

"She's got a point, Fred; Flint _did_ say he'd kill you if you tried ought funny this year," George reminded him.

"Don't you start." Fred eyed his brother suspiciously.

"You're right - don't know what came over me," the other replied. "Been around Percy too long." The three of them laughed. "Honestly though, I do think we should hold off a while."

"As do I," Fred nodded. Lee looked like his whole world had just come crashing down around him. "I don't want them to see us coming," Fred winked and Lee visibly brightened.

"Brilliant," he beamed.

* * *

Ginny watched as Fred, George and Lee laughed together and then she looked back at Hermione, who was furiously trying to ignore them and read. The youngest Weasley frowned and turned back to what she had been doing prior to the twins' entrance: writing in her diary.

She called it her diary but really it was much more than that. It was a small, thin, shabby little book that looked more like a piece of rubbish than anything else, and it was what Ginny treasured above anything else she owned. Of course, this was because it was enchanted.

Inside the diary (for Ginny did not really know how else to think of it) lived a boy named Tom Riddle. She had first met Tom a week ago upon writing in what she had thought to be a present from her parents. Suddenly the diary began writing _back_ to her and she had found herself recounting just how afraid she had been watching Fred fighting and how she had thought the other boy would kill him. And Ginny had started to cry again as the emotions came back. And Tom had listened to every word. He'd even written comforting things back to her.

When Ginny had stopped crying and asked him how he came to be in the diary, Tom had said that it was simply so long ago that it wasn't important. What was important was that he was here for her now.

So Ginny wrote in Tom's diary every day and told him everything. She told how Colin Creevey would not leave her alone once he'd discovered Harry had stayed at her house for part of the summer. She rambled about her first class with Professor Lockhart and how good a teacher he was. She complained about Fred and George and how they had not learned anything since they were still on about getting back at some students from Slytherin and how they were always teasing her.

In fact, that was what she was writing about now, and was so enthralled that she didn't notice the twins until they were standing right behind her.

"Fred! George!" she yelled angrily and quickly covered the diary.

"What's this then, Ginny?" Fred asked and tried to pry her off the book. "You haven't been writing nasty things about George and me, have you?"

"Nah, Fred," George grinned. "She's probably writing about a certain young lad we know with wild black hair and rugged good looks."

"Oh yeah? Do you reckon she's got a load of mucky poems of her undying affections?" Fred nudged his twin and watched Ginny's face turn the colour of her hair.

"It's the scar." George tickled Ginny's ribs. "Girls go _mad_ over a bloke with scars."

Both looked across the room at Harry, whose ears had gone crimson as he tried to ignore them and concentrate on the chess game. Ron's face bore a mix of sympathy and restraint from laughing.

"_Push off_," Ginny growled.

"Right then, we'll leave you to it." Fred winked at her as he, George and Lee left for their dormitory. Ginny watched until they were out of sight and then turned back to the diary. A line of curvy writing had appeared:

**_That was mean_**.

Ginny sighed. _That's how they always are, Tom_, she wrote. _That's why I'm so lucky to have you._

**_You'll always have me, Ginny. I promise_**.

* * *

The Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones arrived Friday night. Lucius Malfoy had sent an owl with instructions on where and when they would be delivered, so just before supper, Flint and Draco crept outside and crossed the grounds to the Quidditch pitch. There they waited in the darkness behind the changerooms and kept watch on the skyline.

"Been back here loads of times," Flint mused.

"What?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Did you know your sister has this little spot just off her belly button that makes her squeal if you—"

"Please stop." Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I _really_ don't want to hear it, but I'm sure Fred Weasley would pay to know all this. And that's saying summat." Flint smacked him upside the head.

"Stuff it, Malfoy." Flint's demeanor did a complete one-eighty. "You got me into a right mess last time with talk like that."

"I'm sure Father would be pleased," Draco replied.

"Did _he_ put you up to it?" Flint snarled.

"No," the other smirked. "It was just for a laugh, but I'll be sure to tell him it works."

"You'd best watch yourself. Your luck he'll believe you and reckon you'll go for a Weasley too."

"Give over, Flint, I was only joking," Draco scoffed. "Any rate, I've got better taste than my sister." This time it was a punch he received squarely on the shoulder. "And I don't think my father would look lightly on you knocking me about, do you?" he drawled.

"No, but now I can tell him it were Quidditch practice what left them lumps," Flint sneered. "You'd deserve it for being a bloody little liar."

"Oh, I'm lying, am I?" Draco asked slyly. "I've got you believing it."

"Leave it, Malfoy."

"You're not even going to deny it?"

Flint shot him the Mother of all Death Glares. "You listen to me - your sister wouldn't touch a Weasley with a fifty foot pole. And if _he_ makes any sort of move, _I'll rip his flaming head off_."

Draco smirked. "Right then, I'll leave you to it." He glanced back up into the sky and spotted seven dark shapes silhouetted against the moon. "Right on time," he noted and directed Flint's attention toward them.

They watched as seven black screech owls carrying seven long bundles swooped down one-by-one and delivered the packages into the boys' waiting hands. Flint tore the wrapping off one end and admired the polished handle with the words _Nimbus Two Thousand and One_ shining in the moonlight.

"Nice one," he grinned, entranced by its beauty. "Let's get these to the common room. Welcome to the team, mate."

* * *

The next morning Pucey was subject to a rude awakening, courtesy of Flint, as he was dragged out from beneath his warm blankets to the cold dungeon floor.

"Bloody hell, Marcus!" he howled as the icy chill shot up his spine and he scrambled to his feet. "What are you playing at? It's Saturday!"

"Get dressed," Flint ordered and then moved to the next bed and bounced Bletchley awake. "In your Quidditch gear." Pucey suddenly noticed Flint was wearing the team uniform.

"Have you gone barmy?" he asked, rather rhetorically, and sat back down on the bed, wrapping his blanket around his bare shoulders. Higgs, who had been awakened by the shouting, muttered something into his pillow that sounded very much like 'yes.' Bletchley groaned, turned over, and pulled the covers over his head.

"Wood's had his team out there since before sun-up," Flint replied.

"Bully for Wood," Pucey grumbled.

"Now's our chance to show off our new secret weapon," the older boy insisted.

"What's that then - our sudden hatred for our Captain?" Bletchley's muffled voice came from beneath his blankets.

"Very funny," Flint glared. "Get up and let's go."

"Hold on, what about breakfast?" Higgs sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"You've missed it," Flint said, indicating the empty beds belonging to the room's other two occupants. "That's where I heard Gryffindor was practicing. Potter's mates were talking too loud."

Pucey was beginning to nod off on his bedpost and Flint took Bletchley's pillow from under him and chucked it at Pucey's head. "Move," he demanded. "Malfoy's already up. I'm off to fetch Derrick and Bole; I want you lot in the common room in five minutes." He bounced Bletchley one more time and then stomped off in the direction of the fifth year boys' dormitory.

Bletchley threw his blankets off, got up, crossed the room, and snatched his pillow back from Pucey. He flopped back down on his bed and the three boys looked back and forth from each other to their beds to their brand new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. Finally Pucey stood up.

"Right, let's go then," he said as he reached for his trousers.

Higgs and Bletchley groaned but followed his lead.

* * *

Pucey, Higgs and Bletchley were last into the common room, and Flint wasted no time in herding his team out of the dungeons, through the castle and outside to the grounds.

"I can't wait to see the look on Wood's face," Flint said. "I've even got a note from Snape giving us permission to use the pitch, so there's nought he can do about it."

Pucey yawned and looked around. "Where's Abby?" he asked, changing the subject completely.

Flint blinked. "Dunno," he shrugged. "Off with Violet I reckon."

"She usually watches us practice, is all," Pucey shrugged.

"He'll not want her there today - not with the Gryffindors around." Draco was trying it on again.

"Stuff it, Malfoy," Higgs snapped, having been getting better at recognizing what would get Flint upset.

"Like I said last night, Malfoy," Flint said nonchalantly. "There's nought to worry about there."

Higgs nearly fell over.

"Hang on." He grabbed Pucey's sleeve and pulled him back out of earshot. "How come he didn't go mental on Malfoy like he did me? That was ten times worse than what I said, and mine was an accident!"

"True," Pucey nodded as they continued on the way to the Quidditch pitch. "But you've got to consider Flint's already been in the doghouse with Abby for not trusting her. If he'd lost it just then, the little git would run off and tell his sister next chance he got, and then where would that land him?"

Higgs looked like he'd just been told Hufflepuff had won the House Cup. "Blimey," he shook his head. "I'll just keep my mouth shut from now on."

"Best way, really." Pucey slapped him on the back and directed his attention to the mass of angry Gryffindors that were headed their way as they stepped onto the pitch.

* * *

Abby was, in fact, off with Violet. The two girls were sitting on the soft grass by the lake using the quiet Saturday to finish their extraordinarily easy Defense Against the Dark Arts homework.

"'What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour?' This is ridiculous!" Abby hissed as she flipped half-heartedly through _Voyages with Vampires_ in search of the answer, hoping it was the right textbook. "Draco said this is the exact quiz he gave his class as well. Lockhart must have handed it out to every single year! Honestly, who _gives_ a toss about the stupid git's favourite colour?"

Violet stared down at her answer of 'lilac', which she'd known without having to look up, and smiled sheepishly. "He's really not all _that_ bad...and you'll be wanting _Year with a Yeti_ for that one," she said quietly.

Abby's eyes darted to her best mate's parchment. "Violet! You haven't even opened a textbook and you're on the last question! How on earth do you know all this rubbish?"

"Oh, _here_, Abigail!" Violet pushed her homework into Abby's lap. "It's the only time I'll ever be able to say you've copied from me."

"Thanks for that!" Abby sighed gratefully and hurriedly finished the quiz. "I can't believe this can pass as an assignment. I mean, really! How are we supposed to learn proper Dark Arts if Lockhart's too busy with the absurd notion of '_harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples_'? Dumbledore must have been right off his trolley to have hired-"

Abby jumped as a sudden, loud echoing bang cut her off, and both she and Violet whirled around. "What _was_ that?"

"I haven't the faintest idea, love, but I think it came from the Quidditch pitch." Violet was peering in the indicated direction in an attempt to uncover further details.

"That's where Marcus is!" Abby's voice was tinged with worry. "Come on," she said as she pushed herself to her feet and pulled Violet up as well.

They ran across the school grounds, passing the many curious faces of students wondering at the noise but not thinking it worth investigating. As they neared the stadium, they noticed two figures - a boy clad in a scarlet Quidditch uniform and a girl in ordinary school robes - supporting a third with telltale red hair between them as they hurried in the other direction. Running along a short distance behind them was a smaller boy, excitedly taking snapshots with a Muggle camera. Interesting as this was, when the girls reached the edge of the pitch, Abby stopped short.

"Wait, I-I've changed my mind." She stepped back under the cover of the bleachers.

"You _what_?" Violet blanched, joining her in hiding. "Abigail, what's gotten into you? Only a minute ago you were worried about Marcus."

"Yes, well, I can see from here that he's quite all right, and also we've only just left all our books by the lake-"

Violet looked suspiciously from her fast-talking friend out to the pitch and took note of everyone gathered there, now recognizing the scarlet uniforms among the familiar green ones. "You're _not_ still on about _him_, are you?"

"_No_," Abby replied pointedly. "No, of course not - don't be daft." She tossed her hair and put her hands on her hips. "But they've got things sorted by the looks of it, haven't they? No need for us getting involved..."

"Oh, go on, Abigail! I want to know what's happened!" Violet latched onto Abby's arm and tried her best to drag her toward the Slytherin-Gryffindor confrontation. Abby twisted free.

"You go ahead then," she insisted. "I'll meet you back in the common room."

Violet stopped. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Dead serious. It's like you and Daddy said - I've got to keep away from bloody Fred Weasley," Abby replied. "Besides, we'll hear all about it later, I'm sure."

"I suppose," Violet pouted and took one last wistful look across the pitch, noting the absence of Harry Potter and making the connection to the scarlet-robed boy they'd seen moments earlier. "I'll not leave you on your own."

"You're a star, you are," Abby smiled.

"No need for that," Violet gushed, but then her face fell. "Don't look now."

Abby raised an eyebrow and turned her head to see what Violet was looking at: Percy Weasley and a curly-haired Ravenclaw girl Abby vaguely recognized were headed their way. "Bloody _hell_."

"Who's th— is that _Penelope Clearwater_?" Violet squinted at them. "What's she doing with _him_?"

"Who's Penelope Clearwater?" Abby screwed up her face.

"You remember, Abigail - she was _only_ our Herbology partner for four years, along with that Raquelle Newberry." Violet rolled her eyes at her friend's seemingly deliberate ignorance toward the social scene.

"Oh, aye - Mudblood, isn't she?" Abby's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Never cared for her, really."

"Honestly I'd have thought she had more sense than to muck about with _his_ sort," Violet nodded, clearly having instantly changed her opinion of the other girl.

"Who cares?" Abby sneered, all desire to hide forgotten. "I'll not let him get off two nights in a row, and if she's prepared to 'muck about' with our Percy then she'd best be prepared for what goes with that." The two girls stepped out from behind the bleachers. "All right, Percy, love?" Abby smirked.

Percy started as he suddenly noticed them. "Not you," he huffed.

"Charming," Violet said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Funny bumping into you all the way out here, Percy," Abby said. "Anyone would think you were following me. Can't have all that again."

"Though I doubt many people are _extraordinarily _concerned with the events of three years ago, I'd think they'd be rather pre-occupied wondering why you seem to be following my brother," Percy returned haughtily, and stood up straight.

Abby inadvertently glanced out across the pitch and accidentally caught Fred's eye. Both quickly looked away. Penelope stifled a giggle.

"Think that's funny, do you, Penelope?" Violet interjected. "The only thing funny I see is the state of your hair - did you forget to brush it this morning or is it naturally so disgusting?"

"Could do with a wash too," Abby said, finding her voice again. "But a sack over your head might work better."

Penelope cast her gaze to the ground and pursed her lips as she fought very hard against the tears that were stinging her eyes. Percy was grinding his teeth.

"You'll never change, will you?" He composed his words with dignity in an attempt to keep from exploding. "You'll always be a selfish, viscous, thoughtless-"

"You're breaking my heart," Abby cut him off and her steely blue eyes flashed maliciously.

"And you are completely_ out of line_," he replied, checking his emotions again. "Penelope and I are Prefects and therefore obligated to ensure school rules are being followed. Not that it is any of your business, but we are investigating the small matter of a disturbance that went on here. Now, if you'll excuse us-"

"Not much point, Weasley - you've missed the whole lot," Flint said as he came up behind them, followed by the rest of the Slytherin team. "Your brother put on quite the show, but if you hurry," he was pointing in the direction the younger Weasley had been escorted off the field, "you might catch the encore."

He went over to Abby, wrapped his huge arms around her waist and shot a wicked grin at Percy, who scowled in return as he and Penelope marched off to where the Gryffindor team (minus a Seeker) was gathered. Flint watched him go with a satisfied gleam in his eye and kissed Abby on the top of her head.

"Are we still practicing then?" Higgs asked.

Flint turned his attention to the fury that still adorned Oliver Wood's face over his sabotaged practice and shook his head. "We've done what we set out to do. Might as well have a proper practice next week."

"Right, in that case, I'm going back to bed," Pucey declared and was already undressing on his way back to the castle.


	8. Detention Spells Disaster

The Flip Side

Chapter Eight

Professor McGonagall, having assigned detentions to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley that night, decided to do the same for Wood, Alicia, Fred and George. Unfortunately, Professor Snape had been thinking along the same lines and when Alicia arrived at Hagrid's hut at dusk, Abby was already there.

"Oh _no_," the two girls groaned in unison.

"Now, now, none o' tha'," Hagrid said as he came out of the hut. "Yer goin' ter need ter cooperate fer the job I've got fer yeh."

"I'd be willing to cooperate with just about _anyone_ but her," Alicia muttered.

"That goes double for me," Abby spat.

"Well, yer agreein' on summat," Hagrid's eyes twinkled with laughter. "Tha's a start at least." Both girls glared at him and he cleared his throat. "Follow me then. Tonight you two are goin' ter be weedin' the pumpkin patch."

"_Gardening_? What's so hard about gardening that we'll need cooperation..."

Abby's question was answered before it was finished being asked. The pumpkins were absolutely massive and their great green leaves swayed in the moonlight. Scattered among them were overgrown vine-like plants the colour of wet mud. The tips curled back and were covered with angry-looking spines, and occasionally (and without warning) the plant would snap back and whip out at anything that wandered into its reach, whether it be an unfortunate insect or another vine testing its territory.

"You've _got_ to be joking," Alicia stared.

"Them Prickletip Whips 'ad a nasty reaction ter the -er- _special _diet I 'ad the pumpkins on," Hagrid explained, flustering a bit. "Not usually near so big, but I'll need 'em all pulled up just the same and stuffed in ter this bag - 's been charmed ter keep the thorns from rippin' it open." He handed a huge burlap sack to Alicia, who hadn't taken her eyes off the ferocious weeds. "Tools are by the back door of me hut. Fang'll stay here w'yeh in case yeh need ter send him fer help. Tha's it then, any questions?"

They could only gape at him.

"Righ', I'll leave yeh to it!" he beamed and marched off in the direction of the Quidditch pitch.

Alicia looked at Abby.

Abby looked at Alicia.

They both looked at the collective of Prickletip Whips.

"Er, after you," Alicia said.

* * *

"That were a rotten trick you lot played this morning."

Pucey stopped scrubbing the toilet that he was crouched over and shot an exasperated look at the cubicle wall to his right. "Oh yeah, Wood? And you wouldn't have done the same?"

"There's summat called _sportsmanship_, though I suppose you've never heard of it," Wood replied from the neighbouring cubicle as he plunged the scrubbrush into the toilet bowl.

"That's a laugh! You and I both know you'd do anything to win! And if your team had a shiny new set of Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones, you'd be showing them off too."

Wood fell silent as he thought about what Pucey had just said. It was true that he had never been happier than when Gryffindor had beaten Slytherin for the first time in ages last year, but he wondered if, had the opportunity presented itself, he would have resorted to cheating to ensure that victory. It was no secret that he and Flint intently disliked - if not flat-out hated - each other on _and_ off the pitch (primarily the former) and he _had_ entertained many a thought about permanently taking the Slytherin Captain out of the game.

The difference between them was that his intentions had never gotten past a fantasy, while Flint had several times deliberately tried to injure him and many others (and often succeeded). Wood knew in his heart that he would never stoop to Flint's level.

Pucey, meanwhile, was smirking to himself, taking Wood's silence as a reluctant agreement. He sprayed more Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover than he needed onto the porcelain and absently began to scrub, wishing - not for the first time that evening - that Filch hadn't confiscated his wand. He cast a distasteful look over his shoulder at Mrs Norris; the mangy old cat had been instructed by Filch to keep a sharp eye on the two boys and report any shenanigans.

"So, did you hear the Quidditch World Cup is coming here in two years?" he asked aloud, looking to start a conversation to drown out the constant _drip-dripping_ from the rusty old faucets.

"Yeah!" Wood replied from the other side of the wall, his voice newly enthusiastic. "I heard them announce it over the Wireless this summer! Brilliant!"

"Are you going?"

"You have to _ask_? Of course I'm bloody well going!"

* * *

For Fred Weasley, it was a win/lose situation. The look on Flint's face when he entered the library and discovered with whom he would be serving detention had been absolutely priceless. On the other hand, of course, he'd been sentenced to an evening with _Marcus Flint_, which, any way he looked at it, Fred did not find nearly so amusing.

In all honesty, Fred wasn't entirely certain _where_ to look, betting high that a glance in the temperamental Slytherin's direction would grant him another punch in the nose. At the same time, considering Flint's infamous disposition, deliberate avoidance could also very well provoke an attack. Taking into account his recent association with the other's girlfriend (however unintentional), Fred could imagine that Flint would not be happy with _anything_ he did.

It was a sticky situation to be sure.

"Stop being such a git," he muttered to himself as he swept the dust around the legs of one of the study tables. "Even Flint wouldn't start a row right under Pince's nose."

It was true: Madam Pince, the Hogwarts' stuffy librarian, was watching both boys like a hawk. Perched at her desk, quill in hand, she scribbled on a large piece of parchment while performing constant sweeps of the room with her sharp eyes. This security, however certain, did not keep Flint from trying it on after detention, or any other time when he had Adrian Pucey and Terrence Higgs to watch his back.

"You're not to stop until that floor is spotless, Mr Weasley," came Madam Pince's huffy voice from across the library. Fred started; he hadn't been aware that he'd stopped sweeping when he'd started to think.

"Sorry, miss," he apologized and resumed his work, catching Flint's smirk out the corner of his eye. The other boy had been set to hauling piles of heavy books and returning them to their proper places in the stacks. This meant, of course, that he had free range, including the Restricted section.

Fred _almost_ envied him. He imagined that it wasn't such a big privilege for Flint. By the time one reached their seventh year, afterall, the need to sign out the specialized material had steadily increased. That, however, was not the point.

The _point_, he suddenly realized, was that the only place he would find the perfect idea with which to get back at the Slytherins was in the Restricted section.

"How could I have been so bloody _stupid_?" he whispered excitedly, mentally smacking himself. Quickly ducking out of Madam Pince's sight behind one of the stacks, Fred produced from his trousers pocket a pair of Dungbombs. With a deep breath, he calmed himself as he set them off, tossed them, and casually strolled back into the study area, sweeping as he went.

It didn't take long for the smell to become noticeable.

It took even less time after that for it to become unbearable.

Flint had begun to breathe through his mouth while casting threatening glares in Fred's direction with narrowed, watering eyes. His face had turned a pale shade of green and he knew his clothes were going to stink. That wasn't nearly the worst of it. The more Flint thought about it, the harder it was not to laugh, especially after a glance at Madam Pince.

The librarian was delicately holding a large linen handkerchief over her hooked nose and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. Finally the stench became too much for her and she rose from her desk and bustled over to a window, only to discover it jammed. Across the room, Fred snorted and Flint had to turn his head to keep Madam Pince from catching him laughing.

"Mr Flint?" she called, and the Slytherin Captain wondered for a brief moment if she'd seen. "Would you be so kind as to open this window for me?"

"Yes, _miss_," Flint set down his stack of books and went to help her, fighting furiously to keep a straight face. Fred began to very slowly edge his way toward the Restricted section, waiting for their backs to be turned.

What Flint saw out the window wiped the hidden smile right off his face.

"Bloody _hell_!" he snarled, stopping Fred in his tracks. Suddenly Restricted books were no longer so important. In fact, he'd forgotten entirely about his mission in favour of learning the infinitely more interesting source of Flint's anger. Thus his full attention was on the muscular Slytherin as he moved to leave.

"Mr Flint!" Madam Pince called him back. "Just exactly _where_ do you think you are going?"

"Get stuffed," he replied, still thundering toward the exit.

"Need I remind you, young man," she rushed after him, "that you are serving a detention and are not permitted to leave until it is in my opinion that you have-"

Flint stopped so suddenly that she nearly crashed into him and he turned on her so that he was standing nose-to-nose with her (or, at least, they _would_ have been nose-to-nose had he not towered nearly two feet over her). His jaw was set and his fists were clenched, which indicated to Fred that, had she not been a teacher, he'd have knocked her flat. Instead, he stared her down as his urge to release his rage steadily grew.

Fred watched with great interest. There were a select few people at Hogwarts (nevermind the rest of Europe) who could keep composed under Marcus Flint's heated gaze. Madam Pince, he discovered, was not one of them. She lasted five seconds (five seconds longer than he'd expected of her, having himself making it a mere two after the "incident" in second year) before she cracked and Flint stormed out the door.

"Professor Snape will hear of this!" she shouted after him, unsuccessfully masking the tremble in her voice. She took a deep, shuddering breath as she adjusted the spectacles on her pointy nose and smoothed her blouse. Catching sight of Fred, she pulled herself up straight as though she'd only just remembered he was there.

"Don't _you_ go getting any ideas, Mr Weasley," she said in an attempt to regain control over the situation. "Finish your task and then you may leave after I personally inspect your work."

Fred scowled, annoyed that Flint's departure suddenly meant his sweeping required a quality assessment. He picked up his broom and, after ensuring that Madam Pince was shakily writing on her parchment, raced across the library and peered out the window.

What he saw down at Hagrid's hut made his jaw drop.

* * *

_Splat!_

Higgs froze as the glob of cold slug residue collided with the side of his head. He shut his eyes and pursed his lips as his teeth began to grind. His annoyance turned to repulsion as he reached up and attempted to scrape the slippery goo out of his hair and off his face. In doing so, Higgs discovered that the most disgusting sensation on Earth is that of wet slug slime lodged in one's ear.

Higgs whipped his head around and glared at George Weasley, who was smiling innocently at him.

"You've got something on your face, mate."

The two boys had been set cleaning up the mess Ron had left on the Quidditch pitch after the mishap during the day. Hagrid had handed them each a bucket and sent them on their way with a pat on the back that had very nearly sent them flying face-first into the slime. He'd gone off to his hut, mumbling something about getting the girls all set up, leaving them to pick up (by hand) all residue and any remaining slugs.

He'd barely been gone five minutes.

Higgs shook his head, causing tiny droplets of slime to fly from his hair onto his trousers.

"_What_ was that for?" he demanded.

"What was _what_ for?" George feigned confusion.

"Why'd you bloody well throw this at me?"

"I didn't do ought, mate. You must have missed the bucket. You should be more careful."

Higgs stared at him and absently spat out a bit of goo that had dribbled into his mouth. George sat back on his haunches. "Can I help you?"

"_What_?"

"You know, I was meaning to ask you," George continued, crossing his legs in front of him and completely ignoring Higgs' incredulous facial expression. "You were a fair Seeker. How is it Malfoy's got the position over you?"

"Give over, Weasley," Higgs muttered. It had _not_ been a good first week back for him, and the last thing he wanted was for all _that_ to be dragged back up.

"Oh, so you _are_ sore about it," George reacted as though he'd just uncovered some great secret.

"Of course I'm sore, you _git_," Higgs spat. "What do you think? That I'd just rolled over and let him have Seeker?" As he spoke, his fist squeezed the glob of slug goo and it oozed between his fingers.

"Well, I did wonder-"

_Splat_.

George blinked through the mess that now adorned his freckled face. The slime was warm (and subsequently runny) from being in Higgs' hand and began to drip off the end of his nose. Higgs was laughing.

"Think _that's_ funny?" George grinned as he plunged both hands into his bucket and pulled out as much slime as he could hold. "Catch!"

Higgs instinctively held up his hands but the pile of goo hit him full on the chest and knocked him over. As he landed on the ground he felt a squishy lump under the small of his back. Two seconds later, George's laughter was cut off by the introduction of a giant slug to his forehead.

"Never looked better, Weasley!" Higgs howled.

"Terry! You didn't tell me you had relatives at Hogwarts!" George replied as he peeled the slug off his head and examined it. "I can definitely see the resemblance!"

They went on like this for several minutes, laughing and emptying the contents of their buckets onto each other. As George turned his back to look for more slime, Higgs managed to turn his bucket over onto the red-haired boy's head. Laughing, Higgs slipped in one of the puddles that had collected on their miniature battlefield and was almost immediately hauled to his feet by his shirt collar.

"What on Earth d'yeh two think yer _doin_'?"

George lifted the rim of the bucket to see Hagrid's bewildered face and smiled sheepishly. The Gamekeeper was looking from him to Higgs with utter disbelief adorning his features.

"Just having a bit of a laugh, Hagrid," George said.

"Making a ruddy _mess_, yeh mean!" Hagrid sputtered. "Here's me not gone more'n a _minute_-"

"We'll clean it-"

"Too right yeh will!" Hagrid interrupted Higgs and then paused to catch his breath. He studied the two boys for a moment. Their hair was stringy and clumped together with sticky glop; their faces and arms were covered in yellowish slime; their clothes were wet and grass-stained. George had an impish smile on his face; he could see there was no real anger in Hagrid's eyes.

"I'll certainly never understan' yeh lads," he shook his huge head. "One minute yer at each other's throats an' the next yer horsin' aroun' like yer best mates. Suppose I should be glad yeh didn't kill each other, really." He stood looking at them a moment longer before letting out a hefty sigh.

"Best have a look t'see if I can't find summat ter clean yeh up," he said. "Maybe Mr Filch has some Mrs Skower's handy." He surveyed the slimed pitch. "In the meantime, yeh'd better get crackin' on this mess." He shook his great finger to emphasize his point but couldn't keep the smile from his rosy face. Then he set off for the castle with giant thundering steps.

"Thought we were in for it, then," Higgs remarked after a moment when Hagrid was out of hearing range.

"With Hagrid?" George scoffed. "Give over. He's all right, is Hagrid. Can you imagine if Filch had caught us?"

"Or Madam Pince," Higgs smirked. "Must be a nightmare for old Flint, stuck with her all night. No sense of humour, that one. Guess that's why he was set to clean the library."

"He _what_?" George gaped at him. "Our Fred was sent to the library and all!"

The two boys exchanged a look of disbelief but didn't have time to contemplate the fact any further before the awkward silence was broken by a piercing scream that cut through the crisp September air.

"That sounded like Abby," Higgs noted, peering in the direction the sound had originated: Hagrid's hut.

A shout came from the same place, followed by a mixture of barking and frantic cries for help.

"That's Alicia!" George exclaimed and took off with Higgs right behind him. George rounded the hut and hurtled the fence surrounding Hagrid's garden. "Alicia!"

"Fr-_George_! Don't move!" Alicia ordered, stumbling over his name for a moment. "Both her hands were firmly gripped around the handle of a blunt spade which she was using to ward off a particularly viscous-looking Prickletip Whip. Fang was barking furiously at it but kept safely out of its range. In the centre of the patch stood Abby, unmoving, beside another Whip with its thorns snagged on her skirt. She was desperately clinging to the vine, realizing that were she to let go it would tear away, recoil, and strike.

"What happened?" George asked as he surveyed the scene.

"What happened to _you_?" Alicia retorted, noticing his ooze-dripping clothing.

"Could we please discuss this later?" Abby hissed. "Get me out of here!"

"Abby, hold on," George replied.

"I'll get her," Higgs said as he climbed over the fence.

"Wait-" Alicia warned him but he pushed past her and George and moved toward Abby. As he did so, a third Whip lashed out at him and he dodged backward, tripped over a giant pumpkin and landed hard on his behind in the dirt.

"What _are_ those things?" he exclaimed.

"Dangerous," Alicia muttered.

"_Really_? Do you reckon?" Abby spat.

"All right, Abby, no need to get shirty," George said and she rolled her eyes. "We'll have you out soon enough."

"George, where's Hagrid?" Alicia asked.

"He's gone up to the castle," he replied and whistled for Fang. The old boarhound looked at him curiously. "Fang, go fetch Hagrid," he said carefully. "He'll know what to do." Fang woofed a woof that sounded very nearly like an 'okay' and galloped toward the castle.

"So we're just going to wait for him then?" Abby wrinkled her nose.

"I'm not," Higgs said and rolled up his slimy sleeves. "I reckon I can dodge between these beggars if summat kept them distracted. Up for it, Weasley?"

George looked around and spotted a plank of wood from the fence half-buried in the soil. He eagerly dug it out and held it up like a Beater's bat. "Ready when you are."

Both boys set their marks on the edge of the patch. George wrung his hands around the plank in an attempt to get a better grip (as slug slime tends to make one's hands very slippery) and Higgs balanced on the balls of his feet. Alicia put down the shovel and picked up the enchanted canvas sack, awaiting their move. When he reached the moment when he knew he had to go or risk losing his nerve, Higgs shouted, "Now!" and sprang forward. The closest Prickletip Whip lashed out at him but George was ready and knocked it away with a mighty_ crack!_ Alicia flung the sack over the plant as it prepared to strike again and it struggled but was unable to rip the bag.

"Well done, Alicia," George winked.

"A little help, Weasley!" Higgs yelled, dancing with two Whips that had him trapped between their ranges.

"I've got this one, George," Alicia assured him as she wrestled with the bagged Whip. "Go on!"

"Terry, when I say, set off that one," George said as he dashed after Higgs and came around the other side of the Whip on the right. It took the bait and sprang toward him. "Now!" George clubbed the one plant as Higgs enticed the other and it flew back just as the second Whip was in full extension. The thorny tips became intertwined and locked the two plants together.

"Beauty!" Higgs laughed as the Whips struggled against each other's grip.

"_Terry_!" Abby hissed.

George kept an eye out for any more ambitious Whips as Higgs ducked under the interlocking plant 'archway' and reached Abby's side.

"All right, Abby?"

"Do I _look_ all right?"

Higgs shrugged and then noticed her hands and frowned. They were covered in scratches and little streams of blood trickled between her fingers. "Abby-"

"Terry, do you remember anything about Prickletip Whips from Herbology?" Abby asked.

"Only that they aren't this bloody big, and that there's spines on the vine as well as the coil, from the state of your hands," he replied. "Why?"

"I can't move."

"What's taking so long?" Alicia called to them.

"Either of you studied these yet?" Higgs called back.

George shrugged and looked at Alicia who thought for a moment. "Last year, maybe. But Madam Sprout didn't stay long on them as they're not so important."

"Didn't count for giant ones, suppose," Higgs said, trying to pry Abby's hands off the vine. "How do these even _exist_?"

"Don't ask," Alicia replied. "Hold on, I remember a bit about the thorns. They contained venom or some drug-"

"A _paralyzing enzyme_," Higgs finished for her, suddenly recalling the lecture. "But normal ones only had a tiny bit so they weren't dangerous."

"And these?" Abby asked, though her lips barely moved. She stared at Higgs as though fiercely hoping he would assure her that there was nothing to worry about.

"Enough to stun a human," he frowned and she bit her bottom lip.

Then without warning she sank to her knees.

"A paralyzing enzyme gradually acting as a muscle relaxant!" George exclaimed. "Now I remember. Never could learn without a demonstration. And they use it to catch mice!"

"They're _carnivorous_?" Alicia gaped. "Terry-!"

"I know, I know," he said. He quickly moved around the side of the vine and delivered a swift kick to the base of the stalk. It didn't break the first time or the second but on the third kick there came a _crack!_ and the plant fell to the dirt. As Higgs stepped back to regain his balance he felt a sharp pain on his leg and realized he was caught. He turned to see another Whip snagged on his pant leg.

"Bugger," he grumbled, tugging away from it.

"All right, Higgs?" George noted his predicament.

"Get her out of here," Higgs indicated Abby as he bent to try and dislodge himself.

George dropped the plank, ducked under the still-struggling vine archway and hoisted Abby to her feet. She was dead weight in his arms and he very nearly dropped her as she slipped against his slime-covered body ("That's _disgusting_!").

That just so happened to be the moment when the Whip Alicia was holding gave a great jerk and escaped her grasp. She was off-balance and could not react in time before the plant sprang back, flung the sack across the garden and lashed forward again to scratch her arm.

"Oh!" she gasped and scrambled out of the way. "I'm sorry, George!"

"Wonderful," George said and shifted his hold on Abby. "Terry-"

Higgs tore away from the vine, took a step toward George, discovered his leg was numb, tripped, and landed face first in the mud. "Leg's been paralyzed," he announced as he rolled into a sitting position.

"Bloody-"

"_Oi_!"

"-hell."

"Oh, _bollocks_," Alicia groaned as she looked out across the grounds at the approaching figure. "It's Flint. Fang must have gotten confused. He's nearly big as Hagrid."

Abby glared at her as best she could.

"Just my luck," George said. "He's finished off our Fred and now he's come for me, just to be sure."

"Wouldn't doubt it," Higgs nodded.

"Marcuth!" Abby called and started as she discovered that she couldn't feel her tongue. She was slipping again and George propped her up once more. "Help uth!"

"What the hell is this, Weasley?" Flint snarled.

"Come off it, Flint, you've got the wrong twin," George replied impatiently.

"Listen, Flint," Alicia approached him, holding her arm across her chest. "You've got to distract this first one here." She motioned toward the plant to demonstrate, quickly pulling her hand away as it attacked. "Then they can get by."

"Why haven't you?"

"I can't use my other arm." She pulled up the sleeve of her dead arm to reveal the scratches. "That reminds me: don't touch the thorns."

"Right," Flint scowled and looked back at Abby cradled in George's arms. "That's what's happened to her, then?"

"And Terry."

"And Terry," he repeated and looked at Higgs as though he'd just noticed he was there. He looked around for a moment, apparently searching for something, and then looked back at Alicia. "Give us your blazer."

"For what?"

Flint snapped his fingers intolerantly, unwilling to repeat himself. Alicia reluctantly complied with his request and he twisted the blazer sleeves tightly around his fists. He jerked his head toward the Whip and Alicia took it to mean she was to distract it. Muttering to herself about him being a rotten sod, she waved her good hand into the plant's territory and it sprang forward. Flint came at it from the side, wrapping the blazer around the vine in a sort of strangle hold and then wrenching it to the ground. He stepped heavily onto the sleeves, pinning the Whip down.

"Move!"

George was miles ahead of him as he dragged Abby out of harm's way and sat her down next to Flint before going back for Higgs. The former Seeker was struggling to get to his feet using one of the pumpkins for support. George pulled him up the rest of the way, threw Higgs's arm around his shoulders and helped him hobble to safety.

As they reached Flint, however, the Slytherin Captain grabbed the front of Higgs's shirt, pulled him away from George and kicked the Weasley twin back into the Pumpkin-Prickletip patch, releasing the Whip from under his foot in the process.

"Hey!" George protested as he tripped backward over a pumpkin and scrambled back out of Whip range.

"What are you playing at?" Alicia demanded.

"Last time, Weasley," Flint said as he supported both Abby and Higgs. "You _and_ your brother stay _away _from her."

"Are you _mental_?" George shouted incredulously. "I _just_ saved her, you _git_!"

"Flint!" Alicia yelled at him but he was already headed toward the castle with his group in tow. "Oh! of all the dirty, rotten tricks!"

"What do you expect, Alicia?" George scowled even as he spotted Hagrid's outline on the horizon and heard Fang's barking as they approached. "He's a Slytherin."


	9. The Toils and Turmoils of Oliver Wood

The Flip Side

Chapter Nine

"Flint!"

The crowded hallway parted and all eyes were on Oliver Wood as he stalked through the sea of students toward the group of Slytherins. Accompanying him were Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Fred and George. Pucey noticed him first and elbowed Flint, directing his attention to his classmate.

"What's the idea, leaving Alicia and George high and dry last night?" Wood demanded.

"What's it to you, Wood?" the other boy replied casually.

"Mess with my team, Flint, and you mess with me," he returned.

"Ooh," Flint mocked (which set the rest of his group to sniggering). "I'm dead scared now. Please don't hurt me, _Olly-_ver." Wood, however, stood his ground and though he wasn't as big as Flint he still cut an imposing figure. Flint's demeanor one-eightied and he stared right back. "As I said last night: them Weasleys-"

"Bring whoever you want into this, Flint," Wood interrupted him. "Make it about Fred and Abby, throw George and Alicia in - blimey, I can make this about your _mother_ if you like. Sure she's _charming_ as ever."

"Don't you _ever_-"

"Fact is," Wood cut him off again, recognizing he'd won the rare prize of rattling Marcus Flint and thus had gained the upper hand, "this is about you and me, as it's always been. And we'll settle it as we always do: on the Quidditch pitch. Did you get the season schedule this morning? We play you our first match."

"I saw," Flint sneered.

"Good," the other replied. "Because I'm looking forward to beating you lot again. So I can count on you to show, then?"

"We'll be there, Wood."

"Right. Well, I'll leave you to it, then," Wood smirked. "Just remember what I've said." He turned away feeling rather good about the way the conversation had gone and left the way he'd come. Flint's eyes were on him until he was out of sight, blocked by the Gryffindor entourage that followed.

Higgs caught Abby's eye and the two exchanged an uneasy frown.

After leaving Hagrid's garden, Flint had taken them both to Madam Pomfrey where they had had to spend the night. Within a half hour the Prickletip Whip venom had affected every muscle in their bodies and the matron had administered an antidote to purge their bloodstreams of the poison. It was a slow, unpleasant process during which each individual muscle came to life with a tingling sensation like a million tiny pins each dancing its own unique dance over their bodies.

It had also been time to do some thinking (as for quite some time they could not do much else), and when they could finally speak they found they quite agreed on one thing. Talking in whispers (for Alicia had been brought in as well) they discussed the betrayal of George Weasley - and it was a betrayal after all, since he did rescue them. Under any other circumstances the situation would have been hilarious. But when they considered the danger the plants posed - especially when George had gone out of his way to help them - well, they felt quite awful about it.

Neither of them, however, dared mention to Flint (especially at the moment, looking as he did like he might rip the head off the next person who spoke).

They therefore settled for keeping shut and shuffling uncomfortably on the spot.

* * *

The rest of September progressed with nothing of any interest occurring, in comparison. After the confrontation between Wood and Flint, things seemed to go back to what would be considered normal. The animosity between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, while still undeniably present, was no longer raging. Fred Weasley was feeling much better about the whole situation now that Wood had decided it was all down to Quidditch after all; George was likewise feeling much better now that Flint had been told off. Abby and Higgs managed to get over their bout of conscience when a matter of much greater importance was brought to their attention: Quidditch.

Flint was working the team hard, having taken Wood's speech very seriously indeed. And, although seven Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones did give them a considerable advantage over the other teams, there was still much to be done to train Malfoy at Seeker and Higgs at Chaser. This, therefore, took up much of their time. And it was likewise for Abby and Violet, and now Pansy as well, who rarely missed watching a training session.

The first week of October brought with it cold, wind and rain and the girls decided to skip Friday's after-school practice. It turned out to be a good idea when the boys returned to the dungeon to change for dinner; all seven were violently sniffling and sneezing.

"Ooh," Abby cooed as she stood up from the crackling fireplace when Flint entered, "you poor baby."

"Scrub up, you lot," Flint ordered his team as he approached Abby. "One month before we defeat Gryffindor. We want to look smart for dinner tonight."

"Went well, then?" Abby asked after a long kiss as the others tromped off to their dormitories.

"Brilliant," Flint grinned. "Terry was reading our moves like he'd been Chaser for years and your Draco caught the Snitch six times."

"Seven times," Draco corrected him as he re-entered the common room.

"Don't let it go to your head," Higgs muttered as he came behind him with Pucey following, towelling his hair. "We've still to test you in a real match, yet."

"Won't matter," Draco drawled lazily as he slumped in front of the fire and set to tie his shoelaces. "I'm a right natural."

"Cheeky monkey," Violet mused as she noted Pansy trying to nonchalantly make her way over to their area of the common room.

"Marcus, go get changed will you, so we can all go for supper?" Pucey rolled his eyes with mock indignation as he finished drying his hair, then proceeded to wipe the sweat from his armpits and throw the soggy towel at Violet.

"_Yech_!" she screamed and flung the towel into the fire. "_Adrian_!"

"That's my cue," Pucey grinned, pulling on his robes and hurrying to the exit as Violet sprang to her feet. "I'll just meet you lot in the Great Hall, then."

"You'd best get ready," Abby said to Flint as Higgs and Draco followed Violet into the corridor.

"Dunno," Flint shrugged, watching the last of the stragglers make their way out. "Deserted common room - 'cept for me an' you." He brushed his fingers along Abby's cheek and grinned. "Gives me a few ideas."

"Dirty beggar," Abby said as she kissed the tip of his nose. "Such a shame because I'm bloody starved. So either you get changed now and have the privilege of going to supper with me at your side, or you take as long as you like, and I'll go catch up with our mates and you can show up -alone- when it suits you."

"You're evil, you are," Flint wrinkled his nose as he went quickly to change.

* * *

"This is bad," George frowned.

"Very bad," Fred agreed.

"Very, very bad indeed," George confirmed his previous assessment. "Oliver's going to go grey overnight."

The twins were quickly returning to Gryffindor Tower on their way from spying on the Slytherins' practice. They'd hidden hunched underneath the bleachers watching with wide eyes the speed of the Nimbus Two-Thousand and Ones. Now, as they dragged themselves up the staircase, all the while trailing water from their rain-soaked robes, they discussed how to handle the situation.

"What do you reckon we should tell him?" George asked as he wiped his cold, runny nose.

"Who?"

"Oliver."

"Oh - dunno," Fred replied, shaking water from his scruffy red hair. "He'll know if we lie and say they're nought special-"

"But he'll go mental if we tell the truth that they're the best brooms we've ever seen," George concluded. "Think fast…we've got company."

The rest of Gryffindor House was descending the stairway - the remainder of the Quidditch team near the front - giving Fred and George about five seconds to come up with something good to tell them. It was more than enough time, as Fred turned to his twin with the characteristic grin on his face.

"This one's easy, my dear brother," he said. "When have we ever told the truth?"

Neither boy got the opportunity to tell their Captain anything, however. As they opened their mouths to speak, Oliver brushed past without so much as a sign of recognition, let alone a barrage of questions regarding their espionage. In fact, Wood was muttering to himself so fiercely that it was possible he hadn't even noticed them standing before him.

"Katie?" George asked curiously as the blonde Chaser neared. "What's up with Oliver?"

"What _isn't_ up with Oliver these days?" Katie sighed, shaking her head. "He's going right barmy, all the worrying he's doing."

"Maybe we shouldn't tell him just yet then, eh Fred?" George frowned.

"Oh no," Katie tore her eyes from Oliver's departing figure and studied the twins as though seeing them for the first time, including the water dripping from their hair and their rain-soaked robes. "You watched their practice? Is it that bad?"

"No," Fred replied. "Worse. They're like green blurs out there. I've never seen anything as fast as those brooms."

"Harry's going to have a time keeping up to Malfoy, even if he is more skilled," George agreed.

"Never mind the rest of us," said Katie gloomily.

The three of them, all feeling very glum indeed, traipsed down the staircase to the Great Hall and joined the rest of their housemates at the Gryffindor table for supper. Katie sat next to Oliver, who was absently stabbing at his baked potato. Fred and George plopped down on either side of Percy, who greeted them by wrinkling his nose at their sopping robes.

"Has he been like this all day?" George asked, jerking his thumb in Wood's direction.

"Unfortunately, yes," Percy frowned as Fred poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "Barely a word out of him. Absolutely _useless_ in group work-"

"Bloody hell," Fred sniffled and wiped his nose with his sleeve. "You'd swear he was dying. Hope I never have to see him during a _real_ tragedy. Don't think I could handle the contagious depression."

George sneezed. "Too right, mate."

"You two look awful," said somebody right behind them, and the twins turned to see Hermione Granger looking at them sympathetically.

"Thanks very much, Hermione," George smirked.

"Yeah, the sentiment is much appreciated," Fred agreed.

"Oh really, I was only commenting on the fact that you're going to catch your death of cold if you keep in those wet clothes," Hermione rolled her eyes. "But seeing as that I'll never convince either of you to go and change now you've begun eating-" she paused and turned so that her back was to the Head table, hiding what she was doing behind her cloak. With a quick flick of her wand and a muttered enchantment, Hermione conjured up a pair of Bluebell flames - her specialty.

"Pass me your glasses," she whispered, and Fred downed the last of his pumpkin juice before he and George handed their cups to Hermione, who gently eased a flame into each and slid them back to them. "Keep them under the table," she instructed. "At least you can warm up and dry off a bit until you get back to the common room."

"Brilliant," George grinned. "Thanks, Hermione."

"Just don't let the teachers see, all right?" she replied, trying to keep a straight face but obviously thrilled at the compliment. She turned on her heel and continued down the table to where Harry and Ron were sitting and joined them.

"You know," Fred mused as he watched Hermione leave. "I just had the strangest sensation of hearing mum's voice coming out of Hermione's mouth. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear mum had found a way to transfer herself into Hermione."

George laughed and even Percy had to smile, but it quickly disappeared as Adrian Pucey and Violet Parkinson entered the Great Hall, followed soon after by the rest of their Slytherin gang and brought up by Abby Malfoy and Marcus Flint. Oliver Wood's gaze shifted from his potato to Flint and his eyes narrowed as he tracked the Slytherin Captain's progress through the Great Hall. Almost as though he could feel Wood's stare burning a hole in the back of his head, Flint threw an arm around Abby's shoulders and his stride become that of an arrogant swagger.

"Git," Wood muttered.

"Come off it, Oliver," Fred rolled his eyes and Wood turned to him with a look of surprise on his face as though he had only just noticed Fred sitting across from him. Encouraged by his capture of Wood's attention, Fred explained himself. "You _have _heard their roster changes, haven't you?"

"That's right," George followed Fred's lead. "Flint's benched a relatively skilled bruiser of a Chaser in Warrington in favour of his mate Terry, who's never been tested at Chaser."

"Not very bright of old Flint, and when it comes to Quidditch that's uncharacteristic of him, I'll give him that," Fred continued. "Plus the only reason Higgs is playing Chaser is because Malfoy's bought himself onto the team, which puts an inexperienced Seeker against Potter - the best Seeker since our Charlie."

Wood seemed to be carefully considering every word the twins were saying, and slowly turned to look at Katie, who had immediately picked up on what the twins were doing. "That's right," she beamed. "And not to mention Derrick and Bole are slow as molasses, so Angelina, Alicia and I won't have any trouble dodging their bludgers."

"So that leaves their only real weapons to be Flint and Pucey," Wood said, nodding. "And…and I've stopped them before and I'll do it again!"

"That's the spirit mate!" Fred grinned.

"Don't know what you were so worried about in the first place," George agreed.

Wood looked across the Great Hall again at Flint, who met his stare with a conceited smirk. A smile crept onto Wood's face and he snorted in laughter as Flint's expression changed to mild confusion at his rival's sudden change in attitude. Then he turned his attention to his supper and began to eat with renewed spirit.

George leaned across Percy and spoke in a hushed whisper to Fred, who was rubbing his hands over the flames in the glass he held on his lap. "Nice one, bro. I think he's convinced."

"Yeah," Fred mulled over the thought of the unmentioned Nimbus Two-Thousand and Ones. "Now all we've got to do is convince ourselves."


	10. Gate Night

The Flip Side

Chapter Ten

"He's dead gorgeous, he is."

Abby snapped herself out of her trance and turned to look at Violet, who was lying on her back on her bed and gazing lovingly at a poster on the wall. "Who is?" she demanded, a little too quickly.

"My husband-to-be – Myron Wagtail," Violet replied with a tone of indignation in her voice.

"She's only been on about him for the past _half hour_," said Aretha Carbonell, one of their dorm-mates, who looked annoyed over the top of her Care of Magical Creatures textbook.

Abby stared at the ever-present, life-size poster over Violet's bed which barely contained the very hairy lead singer of the Weird Sisters who was apparently putting on quite the show. He was jumping about the boundaries of the portrait while smoothly throwing winks at Violet, who swooned at each one.

"Oh, right," said Abby, recovering her wits. "I was only _hoping_ she'd gone onto something else by now."

"No such luck," Aretha grumbled, returning to her textbook.

Violet blew a raspberry at her.

It was Friday night the following week, which just happened to be the day before Hallowe'en, and the girls had returned to their dormitory without a thought in their heads about starting all the homework they'd just received. Rather, their concentration was fully on the question of what they would be wearing to the Hallowe'en feast the next night.

Abby had been intently studying the charm her father had sent her that morning, Mr Borgin having finally obtained the desired item. It was an intricately detailed silver raven attached to a black choker. The bird's wings were spread wide and its piercing gaze was accented by miniscule rubies embedded into the eyes.

Mr Borgin had been in the process of procuring some particularly powerful charms the week Lucius Malfoy had taken his children into Knockturn Alley with the promise of the present of their choice. This particular piece, he had said, had once belonged to Morgan le Fay and represented the raven of Morrigane, the Celtic goddess from whom her name was derived. According to Mr Borgin, it had taken so long to get his hands on the charm because of the suspicion of its hidden Dark powers. Morgan le Fay was suspected to have used the raven to seduce and control her suitors, included among those to be Accolon, Lancelot and Arthur.

Abby had spent much of the day fingering the charm around her throat, feeling the detail of every carefully carved feather and moments ago, while lying on her bed, she had taken it off and began studying the brilliant ruby eyes. She honestly could not recall her Violet's topic of conversation, nor remember the conversation even beginning. The chatter of her dorm-mates had dissolved into silence as she had concentrated on the raven's scarlet stare, slowly becoming convinced that there were tiny flames dancing within, sharing with her a secret unknown since the Dark Ages.

"Abigail!"

"_What_?"

"What are you wearing to the feast?" Violet demanded, looking none too pleased that she had again been being ignored as well as been snapped at.

"I don't know – who cares?" Abby muttered.

Violet blanched. "_You_ do, last I checked."

Abby snorted softly. It was true that, under normal circumstances, she would be desperately seeking an appropriate outfit for the Hallowe'en feast. Over the past several years it had been tradition for Violet and her especially to attempt to outdo each other. Tonight, however, it was the furthest topic from Abby's mind. Though she wasn't entirely certain as to the reason, she had slipped into somewhat of an unexpected depression and wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

There was a knock at the door and the three girls stared at it in collective confusion. After all, who on earth would bother knocking this late on a Friday night? It wasn't until the second knock that anyone had sense enough to speak.

"Sam's probably got her hands full," Abby said. "Get the door for her, will you, Violet?"

"You what?" Violet said indignantly. "Why me?"

"Aretha's busy reading and you're closer than I," Abby drawled as though explaining the situation to a two-year old.

Violet huffed and made quite a production out of getting up, straightening her skirt and jumper and gazing one last time at Myron Wagtail before crossing the room and pulling open the door. Both Abby and Aretha jumped as Violet shrieked in surprise and stumbled backward.

"Keep it down, Parkinson, unless you _want_ the whole school to hear you?"

Pucey and Bletchley were outside the room, apparently having shimmied their way along the walls down the corridor so as not to touch the floor. They had their backs and feet pressed firmly against opposite walls to support themselves and their faces bore expressions of great strain.

"Are you all right?" Abby raised an eyebrow.

"You haven't a clue how difficult this is," Bletchley groaned.

"Give us a hand, would you?" Pucey said.

Abby stood and joined Violet at the door as they helped the boys ease their way into the girls' dormitory. Pucey stretched his arms as far up as he could until he heard his back crack and then sighed in relief.

"That's better. You lot just _had_ to live at the very end of the corridor."

"I'm hurting in places I didn't know I had," Bletchley said, rubbing his shoulders.

"What are you two doing trying to sneak into our dormitory anyway?" Violet demanded.

"We weren't _sneaking_, Vi, or we wouldn't have knocked, now would we?" Pucey stuck his tongue out at her. "We were coming to tell you two to come and join the rest of us in the common room."

"For what?" Abby asked.

"It's the night before Hallowe'en, babe," Pucey grinned. "Affectionately known as Gate Night to our many ancestors who banded together to terrorize Muggles on the eve of the day witches and the rest of our lot were supposed to walk the earth anyway."

"And since we can't exactly go cow-tipping," Bletchley continued, "we reckoned the only way to properly pay our respects to those brave souls is to go First-Year-tipping."

"As much fun as that sounds," Abby rolled her eyes, "I'll pass."

"You're joking," said Pucey in disbelief.

"Oh, she's been in a right mood all night," Violet explained.

"With a face like a wet weekend to boot," said Bletchley.

"I just don't feel like it, all right?" Abby snapped, sitting back on her bed.

Bletchley pulled a face at the remark and Violet huffed. She turned to Pucey and was strangely surprised to find him still smirking. As she raised an eyebrow and made to ask him what he found so amusing, he held up his hand to silence her (and to his amazement, it worked).

"I see what's going on here," he said simply.

"Right, because you're always so perceptive, Adrian," Abby snarled.

"Abby's afwaid she might bump into another ickle twoublemaker out there," Pucey returned, speaking in baby talk. Violet and Bletchley snorted with laughter.

"Oh please," Abby said. "You're _not_ still on about that. Even Violet's given that a rest."

"But it _is_ Hallowe'en, after all, Abby," Pucey winked. "You never know what might happen. You might not be able to, how should I put this," he paused and tapped his chin, pretending to choose his words, "_control_ yourself."

"And with the third moon of Jupiter in direct alignment with Mars," Bletchley said mysteriously, waving his arms about and doing a rather good impression of Professor Trelawney, "strange attraction is _inevitable_, my dear."

"Stuff it," Abby replied, throwing a pillow at Bletchley, which he easily dodged. She turned back to Pucey. "Besides, I'm surprised you even remember any of this, Adrian, with your two-second attention span."

"I must tell you, Abby, it's only the rubbish _she_ spews-" he jerked his thumb at Violet, "-that I don't bother remembering."

"Hey!"

"But when it's something juicy-"

"Watch it…"

"-and possibly true-"

"_Adrian_!"

Abby sprang to her feet and Pucey, having anticipated the baited reaction, turned to run, only to remember a second before crossing the threshold of the doorway the consequences of a boy setting foot in the girls' dormitory corridor. He skidded to a halt with barely an inch to spare and turned around only to find himself staring down the length of Abby's wand.

"I was only joking," he grinned sheepishly.

"Ha-ha-_ha_," she returned sarcastically, then shifted her aim to his feet. "_Stupify_!"

Pucey leapt backward to avoid the red bolt that shot at him, realizing too late that he'd played to her exact intention. As his feet touched stone, the hallway was filled with an eerie whistling as the foundations started to rumble. Before Pucey could dive back into the dorm-room, the air began to swirl, picking up speed and strength faster than any natural cyclone, and plucked him off his feet and swept him back to the common room where he landed rather unceremoniously in a heap on the floor.

"In her usual towering temper, is she?"

Pucey grinned as Flint hauled him up by his shirt collar. "You know her, mate," he said as he rubbed the lump on his head that had been introduced to the cold dungeon stone.

"Yeah, I do," Flint muttered as the wind died down. "At least I know nothing's out of order, then."

"You were made for each other," Pucey returned casually and was rewarded with a warning glare which he shrugged off without a concern. "So are we going, or what?"

"We're going," Flint nodded. "You coming, Terry?"

Higgs made a grand gesture out of shining his Prefect badge before standing up. "Right behind you."

The three boys made to leave but were interrupted as the sound of wind picked up again. Without a word, Flint moved back to the corridor and caught Bletchley as he shot out of the girls' dormitories.

* * *

"Run, little piggy," Flint grinned cruelly as he watched the particularly porky Hufflepuff first year scurrying away down the hallway from where he and Pucey had been bullying the boy.

"We'll have to find a good hiding place for these," Pucey said casually, tossing the boy's eyeglasses into the air and then catching and pocketing them along with the five Sickles and 3 Knuts they had confiscated off him. "Or just add them to the collection at the bottom of the lake."

"Up to you, mate," Flint shrugged.

"Oi," Bletchley called as he and Higgs came around the corner. "Get a load of this one we bumped into in the Great Hall."

He pushed a girl toward Flint and she stumbled a few steps before regaining her balance. Her waist length dirty blonde hair was disheveled on top of her head as though it had been purposely messed and she clutched a tattered magazine in her hands. She stared up at the Slytherin Captain with wide, silvery-grey eyes but her airy voice was without fear when she spoke:

"You're Marcus Flint."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Flint replied sarcastically.

"You're the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team," the girl continued, apparently not having heard him. "And you beat up Fred Weasley on the Hogwarts Express."

"The kid's a genius," Flint said as Bletchley laughed loudly, greatly pleased that the girl had performed as hoped.

"But then Fred Weasley tried to steal your girlfriend, Abigail Mal-"

"And that's all for tonight!" Bletchley flushed, clapping his hand over the girl's mouth as Flint's teeth began to grind loudly. The girl gazed off into the distance, taking no notice of her state of forced silence.

"Who is this?" Pucey grinned after a sideways glance at Flint.

"Luna Lovegood," Higgs replied, ripping the magazine from the girl's grip and tossing it to Pucey. "She says her father's the editor of this rubbish."

Pucey looked down at the cover of _The Quibbler_ with a raised eyebrow and snorted in laughter as he read the headline "My Daughter Gave Birth to a Horklump!" Luna's eyes, though still dreamily unfocused on some distant object, darkened.

"Is this talking about you then?" he pointed to the alleged baby Horklump and squinted at Luna as if checking for similarities. "Your dear old mum give you this when you came to school so you wouldn't forget all about her?"

"My mother passed away two years ago," Luna replied in the same airy voice, after Bletchley removed his hand from her mouth, though the words now had a frosty edge.

"Aww, what a shame," Flint sneered.

"Too bad," Bletchley pouted.

"Poor baby," Pucey said offhandedly as he straightened and opened the magazine. "You don't mind if I have a look at this, do you? Only I think it's _so_ brilliant, and – _oops_," he said overdramatically as he ripped _The Quibbler_ in half. "Dreadfully sorry about that."

Luna's attention had finally been captured. Her gaze was no longer distant but was now focused on Pucey and the two halves of the magazine he held in his hands. Her eyes flicked to meet his and her icy stare remained fixed on him as he smirked in triumph. Then, faster than any of them had anticipated, Luna's hand flew to her ear and produced her wand that had been tucked away for safe keeping and pointed it at Pucey. Higgs, however, having been Seeker for several years, had few rivals for reflexes and reaction speed, and quickly snatched the wand away before she could utter a sound.

"No magic in the corridors," he said simply, indicating his Prefect badge.

"Tut, tut, what a naughty girl you are, Miss Luna," Pucey clucked his tongue as he bent over to look Luna in the eye.

"I'm sure I could teach her a thing or two."

The four boys looked to the sound of the voice to see Abby followed by Violet. Abby was pulling something along behind her. Flint grinned widely. "Decided to join us after all, did you?"

"Couldn't let you have all the fun," she winked as she pinched his ribs. "Besides, it's quite clear that you need our help. You see, we've found something far more interesting than the little wanker you're playing with."

"Oh really?" Pucey's eyes twinkled.

"Really," Violet smirked as Abby swung her arm around and pulled into full view a young first year girl whose vibrant red hair left no mistaking her identity.

"An ickle Weasley monkey all by her lonesome," Abby cooed. "Found her skulking around on the second floor. And the best part-" she snapped her fingers in front of Ginny's eyes and received no reaction, "-the lights are on but nobody's home."

"Too right, she's all sort of glazed over," Pucey scrunched up his nose as he looked at her. "What was she doing?"

"Dunno," Violet shrugged. "Nothing really. Looked like she was headed into that old broken bathroom."

"Aww, going to play with old Moaning Myrtle 'cause she can't afford any real friends," Bletchley sniggered.

"Speaking from experience, Bletch?" Higgs grinned.

"Hey, I can afford to be friends with anyone I want. I just let you lot hang around with me to make _you_ look good," Bletchley smiled arrogantly and ran his fingers through his shaggy dark hair.

"What do you reckon's wrong with her?" Pucey was still fascinated with Ginny, and began waving his hand back and forth in front of her eyes but her vacant stare did not falter.

"Who cares?" Abby snorted.

"Well, it's no fun if we can't get a reaction," Pucey replied.

"I'm not looking for a reaction from _her_," Abby returned. "But if we mess her up a little-"

"It'll send a message to her brothers," Flint finished her sentence.

"I like it," Pucey's grin widened.

"Professor Lockhart has got a cage full of Cornish Pixies," Violet said. "We could set them loose in a room and lock her in with them."

"I'd rather just take her and little Loony here, tie them up by the Dark Forest and see what comes sniffing," Bletchley said, ruffling Luna's hair. She did not acknowledge him.

"Perfect," Abby laughed and grabbed Ginny's hand again. "Let's-"

"Just exactly what is going on here?"

All six Slytherins quickly turned at the sound of Professor McGonagall's voice, but it was again Higgs who acted first.

"A couple of first years took a wrong turn, ma'am. We were escorting them back to the Grand Staircase."

McGonagall's lips tightened into a very thin line. She was not fooled in the least, but, luckily, could not prove that Higgs was lying. "How very noble of you," she said coldly. "As I am headed that direction, however, I shall relieve you of this burden. Ms Weasley, Ms Lovegood," she turned to the girls, "as it is very nearly curfew, you will accompany me to your common rooms. Mr Higgs, I'll have Ms Lovegood's wand, if you please. I do hope you would never think to abuse your powers as Prefect, lest Professor Dumbledore see fit to have you turn in your badge."

Bletchley and Abby released Luna and Ginny and McGonagall put a hand firmly on each girl's shoulder after receiving the wand from Higgs. As if she was suddenly waking from a deep sleep, Ginny blinked and looking around in wonder. Her mouth moved to form silent words but she kept quiet and stared in recognition at the gang of Slytherins. McGonagall's expression, however, had not changed though her eyes reflected her anger.

"Now, I am warning you – _all_ of you," she said very slowly. "There is no place for this type of behavior at Hogwarts. If I even catch wind of anything happening like what was going to happen tonight, _all six_ of you will be expelled. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," Flint replied evenly, a dangerous glint of his own in his eye, "_ma'am_."

McGonagall's gaze lingered for a moment on Flint before she turned and began to escort the two first years down the corridor. When they were a ways down, Luna turned her head the slightest degree in time to catch Pucey drop the remains of _The Quibbler_ and grind it into the stone floor with his heel.


	11. The Season Opener

The Flip Side

Chapter Eleven

"You're looking peaky this morning, Ginny-bean," Fred commented as he and George entered the common room from the dormitory staircase. "Not allowed to be ill on Hallowe'en, you know."

"He's right, Gin," George nodded. "Or we might just have to confiscate all your candy for ourselves."

Ginny smiled weakly. "I'm all right," she insisted, shifting the books she was carrying so they were out of her brothers' sight. "Just didn't sleep well, is all."

"A spot of breakfast will perk you right up," George declared, as he and Fred each linked one of Ginny's arms with their own. She struggled to keep from dropping her books. "Right this way, Miss Weasley."

Ginny countered their clowning with just enough protest to keep them from becoming suspicious and pressing the case any further than they had already done. One of the books she was so intently keeping away from them was Tom's journal. She had been writing to him more and more often; in fact, the last thing Ginny could remember doing the night before was writing to Tom. That is, it was the last thing Ginny could remember before she was standing in the corridor, surrounded by Slytherin bullies, Professor McGonagall and Luna Lovegood, with absolutely no idea as to how she got there.

She had fully intended to write to Tom during breakfast and ask him whether or not she had mentioned last night if she had wanted to go for a walk after their little chat, but it appeared that would no longer be an option. She would have to mull it over into her oatmeal and wait for another time when her brothers were not around.

Nothing seemed to be out of sorts to either twin, however, who had not yet heard of Ginny's Gate Night confrontation with Marcus Flint and his gang of Slytherin nasties. It was Hallowe'en and one week away from the opening match of the Quidditch season, which would pit Gryffindor against Slytherin. It was also the first Hogsmeade visit of the year (aside from the regular and quite illegal visits via secret passage), and Fred and George were grinning from ear to ear with excitement about bringing back all the Honeydukes sweets and Zonko jokes they could afford.

After breakfast, all the students with permission to go assembled outside the Great Hall to be cleared by Filch and then made their way down the path to the town of Hogsmeade. By noon, the twins had already stuffed their pockets with enough candy (both real and prank) to consider the trip successful and met up with Angelina, Alicia and Katie for a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks Inn.

All in all, the day was going swimmingly; Fred didn't bat an eye passing Abby in the street and she was equally as cool, as though they hardly knew each other. In fact, the twins were in such a good mood by the Hallowe'en Feast that between the laughs and jokes and pumpkin pie, they failed to notice that Ginny was not in attendance. Harry's absence, however, was not so easily overlooked; as the night before the Quidditch season opener, it was a particularly raucous student body that filled the Dining Hall. Jeers and cheers sporadically broke out from Gryffindor and Slytherin supporters alike, and, despite the multiple warnings issued from the Head table, all four Houses eagerly expressed their feelings on the subject. It was only a matter of time, then, until Harry's name was brought up, whether he was there to acknowledge the credit or not (and it certainly didn't matter to the Slytherins, whose considerable boos and hisses were still outmatched by the rest of the school's shouts of approval).

It wasn't until later that night, with the entire school gathered in the second floor corridor to see Mrs Norris, Argus Filch's cat, hanging from the torch bracket and to read the threatening message scrawled above her outside the broken girls' lavatory, when spirits fell.

_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED._

_ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE._

As a terrified hush shot through the crowd that only Draco Malfoy was arrogant enough to interrupt ("You'll be next, Mudbloods!"), Fred couldn't help but cast a pointed look at Abby. Feeling eyes on her, she looked around until she saw him. While she was clearly annoyed by Draco's outburst she was even more so angered by the curiously accusatory glint in the Weasley twin's gaze and she sneered back at him before tugging on Violet Parkinson's cloak-sleeve and skulking away just as Filch burst onto the scene.

While Fred made mental note of her guilty behavior, it, the bloody message, and the chilling sight of the hanging, Petrified cat were quickly driven to the back of his mind by the next morning. The anxiety of the Quidditch match that was to take place at eleven o'clock that day was powerful enough to overtake even those images.

"Oh, I can't eat this," Katie groaned, pushing away the single piece of dry toast she'd tried to nibble. "My stomach's doing barrel roles."

"You should eat something, Kate," Wood said. "Toast or cereal – carbs give you energy."

"Yes, and vomiting takes it away," Katie argued. "Don't worry, Oliver, I'm staying hydrated – see?" She took an exaggerated gulp of ice water from her glass. Wood resisted the temptation to tell her that she should be drinking tepid water to avoid temperature shock to the body.

"Well, look at Flint's team," he replied instead. "They're all eating heartily."

It was true. Pucey and Bletchley had each a double helping of beans on toast and seemed to be egging on an eating contest between Derrick and Bole. The two Beaters were cramming bangers into their mouths at an impressive rate. Violet Parkinson was turning green and trying not to watch.

Angelina wrinkled her nose. "Forgive us, Oliver, for very much not wanting to look _or_ act like Flint's team."

"Point taken," the Gryffindor Captain conceded and miserably returned to his scrambled eggs as Harry Potter quietly entered the Great Hall and joined them at their table.

They finished their meager breakfasts in relative silence and then collectively rose from the table. It was hard not to think of the trek to the changing rooms as the walk to their own doom, and Wood's pre-game pep talk did nothing to alter the feeling. It was because of this that, minutes before the match was scheduled to begin, Fred's mind was racing.

"We've got to throw them off," he muttered to George. "Fast brooms will look dead bog-standard if their concentration's been rattled. It's all in the mind."

"Trouble is," George replied, "Flint's only _got_ a one-track mind – same as Oliver. Guaranteed he's been thinking, talking, breathing and dreaming naught but this match all week."

"That's where you're wrong, mate," Fred returned. "He's at _least_ a two-track mind." His eyes twinkled as he slowed to let the rest of his team pass, spying the Slytherins exiting the adjacent changing room.

"Oi, Flint!" Fred called out.

Flint sneered. "Too late to switch teams now, Weasley. I'd say we'd accept a bribe as not to knock you about too much, but it's not summat I can guarantee. I'm liable to forget, me."

"Don't think he could afford it anyway, Marcus," Pucey laughed.

"Best thing to do is pray the beating won't go on too long," Flint agreed. His cronies chortled behind him.

"Actually," Fred smiled politely. "I was hoping you'd point out where Abby's sitting? I want to dedicate my performance to her, see."

Flint's eyes darkened and his cheeks flushed. Pucey, Higgs and Bletchley gaped at him. Malfoy, however, looked smug. "What did you say?" the hulking Slytherin growled.

"What are you _doing_?" George whispered, fairly certain his twin had just gone off his nut.

"Just play along," Fred replied out of the corner of his mouth and then turned back to Flint. "That's right. And when _we_ win the match, well, kiss goes to the winner, doesn't it?"

He winked cheekily and turned to follow his team out onto the pitch where Flint could not retaliate without the entire student body and staff as witnesses. George, having seen Flint's reaction and finally cottoned on, grinned.

"Oh, and Malfoy?" he added. "Hermione sends her love."

* * *

Abby and Violet made their way along the Slytherin bleachers and took their seats among Aretha Carbonell, Samantha Byle and Lara Mayfield, the other girls from their year. Violet looked mildly embarrassed as Pansy, who was tagging after them, tripped over Blaise Zabini's outstretched foot while her attention was locked on Draco entering the pitch. Abby snorted.

"He's naught special, love," she drawled knowingly and Pansy blushed furiously and muttered something nasty in Zabini's direction.

"She's obsessed with your Draco, she is," Violet rolled her eyes, unable to resist rabbitting even as Pansy looked horrified and turned fully around in her seat to begin a hurried conversation with two girls from her own year.

"She should just ask him to go with her," Samantha laughed. "He'd probably love the attention of someone fawning over him just like dear old mum, hey Abby?"

Abby didn't respond and the four other girls followed her smoking glare to the pitch just in time to catch Fred Weasley blowing a kiss in her direction. "What the bloody hell does he think he's playing at?" she demanded.

"Did I just see what I think I saw?" Aretha gaped.

"I _knew_ it!" Violet exclaimed. "He fancies you like mad!" Pansy squealed in disgust.

"Give over!" Abby hissed. "You're thicker than you look, you! He's taking the mickey on me, the manky toerag."

"If you say so, love, but I know what I saw," Violet rolled her eyes, clearly not happy with being called thick. "He may be a muggins and a dead ordinary one at that, but you can't deny the facts."

"Oh, give it a rest, would you?" Abby spat. "This is just what he wants, to have us going spare. You're playing right into Fred Weasley's hands – is that what you want?"

Violet huffed as everyone in the vicinity seemed to be listening in. "All right, Abigail, no need to get shirty."

"I've every need, thank you," the other replied as the starting whistle blew and the fourteen players kicked off into the air. "Your little 'observations' do nothing but get me into trouble."

Violet shifted uncomfortably under her friend's accusation. "I'm sorry," she mumbled hurriedly and said nothing more about it.

The girls turned their attention to the match and joined the rest of their House's jeers as Flint and Pucey scored two early goals to put Slytherin up twenty-to-zero and forcing distress into Gryffindor commentator Lee Jordan's voice.

Higgs came racing up the pitch, shadowing Flint who was in possession of the Quaffle. The Slytherin Captain threw a massive shoulder into Angelina Johnson's attempted block and mock passed to Pucey who was speeding up on his right. Alicia bit on the fake and went to cover Pucey, taking herself out of the play. Higgs had meanwhile circled around the back of the goal hoops and come into range to the left. Flint whipped the Quaffle to Higgs who barrel-rolled over Katie, who had moved to intercept, and took the pass. Wood flew out to challenge but had to dodge a Bludger whacked by Derrick. Higgs made the ensuing goal look effortless.

"There's the speed of a Seeker coming into play!" shouted Pucey's younger brother Matthew from the front row as he pumped his fist in the air. Down the bench, Warrington scowled.

Angelina had the Quaffle now and was streaking back down the pitch, her face set in determination. Flint and Pucey were after her like hawks. She waited until she could very nearly feel their hot breath on her neck and then pulled up, executing a tricky reverse nosedive that sent them barreling past where she had been moments before. Lining up her shot, she aimed for Bletchley's well-known weaker left side. Just as she was throwing, however, a Bludger rocketed past her face and she instinctively threw up her hands to protect herself, completely ruining the shot. Bletchley made the easy save and, hovering far below, Bole grinned, having done his job.

"Aw, ickle Angie got scared of the big bad Bludger!" jeered Montague, another reserve Chaser, from his seat next to Warrington. Lara and Aretha laughed hysterically.

Abby, despite herself, began looking for Gryffindor's Beaters. That play had been too easy as Angelina had had no support in the least. High above, she spotted both Weasleys circling around Harry Potter like flies and fighting off the second Bludger that was persistently targeting the Seeker no matter how forcibly deterred. Not far away, she spied Draco watching the scene gleefully.

"Find the Snitch, you git, or a spectator is all you'll be," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Flint had scored three more goals by the time Wood signaled for time out. Unfortunately, with everything going so well, nobody else on the team had noticed Draco as the only one without his head in the game, and so nothing was said to him. Not long after, Slytherin's worst fear was realized (but not before Violet led a chorus of jeers as Potter took a hard and obviously damaging Bludger to the arm).

"I wonder if either of them will take this as a hint," Abby sneered as she watched Potter fly past Draco and capture the Golden Snitch that had been hovering practically under his nose ("After being smashed by a Bludger too!" Jordan's voice rang out over the speakerbox as he looked directly at the pack of Slytherins that had been laughing about it moments earlier). "Daddy and Marcus, I mean. No broomstick or silly feud is worth having my _dear_ brother completely blow an easy win."

"You sound almost glad," Violet raised an eyebrow.

"Sibling rivalry," Samantha said, shaking her head at the loss. "She's one up on him now."

"Well, Terry wouldn't have been so clueless, I'll say that much," Abby replied, dusting herself off as she got to her feet. "And now who's got to hear about it all next week? That's right – me"

"Your brother won't exactly be getting off easy," Aretha pointed out, directing Abby's attention to the pitch where the Slytherin team was stalking back to the changerooms led by Flint half-dragging Draco. They could almost see the vein throbbing in his forehead from the bleachers. "About to have a strip torn clean off him, I reckon."

Pansy's face fell. "How can he do that?" she demanded. "It was an accident! I mean, it's just a game – and I've a mind to tell him so!"

Everyone within earshot nearly fell over.

"If you value your life at all, love, you won't even go near Marcus for the rest of the day, let alone speak to him," Abby laughed cruelly.

Noticing movement out of the corner of her eye, Abby shifted her gaze to where Fred was calling over George to help him wrestling the Bludger they'd been fighting earlier back into the box. When it was safely locked away he collapsed on the ground and, whether he consciously meant to or not, met her stare. A cocky grin spread across his face as he flexed his bicep and kissed it. Abby quickly looked away and tried to act as though nothing had happened, though her cheeks had turned pink. George raised an eyebrow but said nothing.


	12. PreYuletide Distractions

The Flip Side

Chapter Twelve

"Who was it?"

"Some mudblood firstie."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, his name is Colin Creevey – don't you _ever_ listen to anything I say?"

"Who's that?"

"Like I said – some mudblood firstie."

"He's the one always running around with that Muggle camera. I've had to knock him about for being on the second floor corridor this week after curfew trying to get a photo."

"Yes, _thank you_, at least someone else pays attention."

"Oh, right, the little git who was taking snapshots on the train and then trying to get everyone to autograph their injuries."

"So, some mudblood firstie who deserved it."

Pucey put his hands behind his head and leaned back into the sofa cushion as his comment was received with a round of laughs in hearty agreement. He, Violet, Flint, Abby and Higgs were gathered in the common room preparing to head off to breakfast before their Monday morning classes. Bletchley came straggling out of the dormitories dragging a heavy-looking sac behind him.

"Bletch," Pucey began slowly, raising an eyebrow and getting to his feet, "what's all this about?"

"This, Adrian, is my most brilliant scheme to date," Bletchley grinned widely and reached into the sac. "You know all the trinkets I've collected over the years?"

"I assume you're referring to all the junk left strewn about the dorm that I step on when I get up to go to the loo in the middle of the night?" Higgs folded his arms.

"The very ones," Bletchley replied, causing the girls to giggle. "And I am going to pawn them off as ancient talismans meant to protect all the paranoid little mudbloods who think they could be next on the Heir's hit-list." He held one up as an example: a small marble stone carving of a moon with two faces.

"What, make profit off people's fear?" Abby's eyes shone. "Bletch, I think I'm in love."

"Oi, watch it," Flint stepped in immediately, smiling as if he were joking but casting a warning glare at Bletchley.

The rest of the morning elapsed rather quickly and just before lunch the sixth-year Divination class received their term project that would be due first thing after Christmas break.

"By now you should each be in tune with your Inner Eye and the time has come to put it to the test," Professor Trelawney had announced at the end of class. "You must extend yourself into the future and read what is to come." Her eyes had been very wide as she excitedly explained the project. "It may be a dream, a prophetic trance or a vision while you are quite awake – the means does not matter. And you will provide a three scroll report in full detail."

"Three scrolls!" Violet grumbled. "She must think we've no other projects over Christmas!"

"At least she let us be in groups for the research," Sam shrugged. "Pretty hard to keep record of a trance on your own." She, Violet and Abby, being the only three Slytherins in the class, had immediately partnered up and refused to take on anyone else.

"Oi! Look here!" Bletchley and Pucey were bounding up the tower staircase to intercept the girls on their way down. "We've sold the lot!"  
"I don't believe it," Abby laughed at the handful of Galleons and Sickles Bletchley pulled from his weighted-down pocket. "People were actually thick enough to fall for it?"

"Ate it up like candy," Pucey nodded. "We even had Terry pretend to buy a couple – you know, to make it look like even someone as dead smart as him, and a Prefect to boot, could be superstitious."

"That's really quite clever, actually," Sam sounded impressed.

"Aye, well, it were Terry's idea, really," Bletchley admitted.

"That explains that," Abby snorted, and the group continued down to the Great Hall.

* * *

The rest of November slipped away fairly uneventfully. Flint became grouchier and grouchier as his classes became steadily more difficult in preparation for the year-end NEWTs, while his thoughts dwelled on Slytherin's next Quidditch match versus Hufflepuff that would take place in February. A brand new captain had just been named this season in Seeker Cedric Diggory, and he had faced the task of assembling an entirely new team. Their first match against Ravenclaw would take place before the Christmas break, and Flint would be watching intently to see what he could expect. Then he could get the rest of his team on the same page after beating some severe focus into Malfoy. This line of thought had caused Flint's fingernails (alongside anyone who got in his way) to become constant victims of his growing stress.

Lucius Malfoy had written to inform both of his children that he and their mother would be away during the holidays and that they were to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. As expected, both Abby and Draco had thrown a fit at the thought. When Draco calmed down enough to suggest aloud to his sister the possibility of their father knowing information regarding the Chamber and the Heir, however, both somewhat reluctantly signed up to stay over the break and then immediately sent letters to Lucius demanding to know any details he could spare.

Both Ginny and Percy Weasley had gotten more secretive but the twins didn't take much notice. As far as Fred and George could tell, Ginny was starting to feel the pressures of built-up homework, and Percy was annoyed with them for one broken rule or another. In any case, they were far too busy trying to figure out the identity of Slytherin's Heir. Most recently they had decided on Professor Sinistra, who had given them a double detention ("completely unjustified!" of course) last Astronomy class when they had charmed their telescope tripod to tap-dance around the tower.

Oliver Wood, however, seemed to have totally forgotten his grievances after his team's big win over Slytherin and their Nimbus 2001s, and had taken to discussing Quidditch tactics with anyone who would listen. Amazingly, people began suddenly remembering pressing errands and had to run when Wood entered the room, leaving Katie as the only one who couldn't bring herself to disappoint him. The poor girl could only take so much, however, and finally suggested Oliver write to Charlie Weasley, which Wood thought to be a brilliant idea. He spent hours hunched over a piece of parchment that night, enthusiastically recounting every detail of the match and assuring the former Captain and Seeker that he was taking good care of his team.

It wasn't until the second week of December that anything that could be considered interesting happened. Draco had been fuming all through dinner about an accident in Potions class ("Potter did it, I _know_ it!"), and while Abby and the others had tried hard to ignore his tantrum, it had been impossible not to notice the reaction at the Gryffindor table. Despite Percy's hissing at them to sit down and behave, George had clapped Harry Potter on the back and Fred had declared loudly enough that while he approved of Swelling Solutions, nothing beat an old-fashioned jaw-lock jinx. The Slytherins had collectively snarled.

Mid-December a notice had appeared in the house common rooms regarding the formation of a Duelling Club, the first of which was to be held in the Great Hall that evening. While Fred had thought it would be great fun ("And if a stray hex were to hit a certain Malfoy, so be it!"), George had won out in the end. With most of the school preoccupied, he'd pointed out, it would be the perfect opportunity to sneak off to Hogsmeade and replenish their supplies of sweets and gags.

So, at eight o'clock, with the majority of the student body gathered eagerly around Professors Lockhart and Snape, the Weasley twins (with the Marauder's Map tucked safely in George's pocket) slipped down the third floor corridor until they came to a statue of a very ugly one-eyed witch.

"All clear?" Fred asked quietly as he pulled his wand from his sleeve.

George unfolded the map and touched the tip of his wand to the parchment. "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_," he said clearly and the map slowly began to reveal its intricate layout of Hogwarts castle and its surrounding grounds.

"I don't see Snape," he said after a moment, "so unless he's already killed Lockhart I reckon he's still in the Great Hall. Filch is…in his office, but Mrs Norris just came around the corner outside Moaning Myrtle's lavatory. Must be doing Filch's rounds while he's still poorly." He then noticed two names outside the library on the floor above: M. Flint and A. Malfoy, but stopped himself before mentioning it. "And that's the lot. We're clear," he lied, and erased the map a little too quickly.

Fred raised an eyebrow and then pointed his wand at the statue and muttered "_Dissendium_!" George re-pocketed the map and he and Fred took one last look over their shoulders before climbing down into the now-revealed secret passage.

Before long, Fred's curiosity got the better of him. "You were going to say something then, before you put the map away," he began as they walked together down the dark tunnel.

"I just thought one of the teachers was headed our way, but I was wrong," George replied swiftly.

"Who?"

"McGonagall."

Fred frowned. "Funny that she'd be wandering the corridors at night. Usually keeps to her office, that one."

George shrugged. "Like I said: I was wrong." His stomach twisted; he had never lied to Fred and it annoyed him that he was doing it now. As they continued in silence he knew that Fred didn't believe him, but thankfully he didn't question him further.

* * *

There was a heavy blizzard that night and the twins had been extra careful upon their return from Hogsmeade so as not to bump into anybody; inquiries after their wet clothes and the snowflakes speckling their ginger hair would be a tad sticky to explain. There was a general sense of relief among the teachers the next day that it was Friday and also the last day of official classes before the holidays. The fresh snow blanketing the castle and grounds was so enchanting that students were finding it nearly impossible to concentrate, preferring to discuss what they hoped to be getting for Christmas.

Professor McGonagall in particular seemed to land the most inattentive class in her morning sixth-years.

"Oi, Abby," Pucey turned full-around in his chair to speak to his friend sitting behind him. "Where were you last night at Lockhart's Dueling Club? I wanted to partner with you so you could teach me some of them Durmstrang hexes but when I turned around you were gone."

"Didn't fancy it," Abby shrugged.

"Now, class, please pay attention to what you are doing," Professor McGonagall instructed aloud to her students as she walked up and down the aisles to inspect their progress in turning badgers into footstools. "This involves a rather tricky wrist movement that needs to be done absolutely right. As it is the season of giving, I'll let you know that it is very likely you will have to perform this spell on your NEWTs next year and I don't need to remind you how important those are, do I?"

"Old Flint was missing too, in case you didn't notice," Bletchley grinned and elbowed her gently in the ribs.

"Oooh, well, doesn't take a genius to put two-and-two together and figure out what you were up to then, hey?" Pucey teased.

"Ade, watch what you're doing," Higgs said as he dodged Pucey's wand that he'd been absently waving around in a weak attempt to convince Professor McGonagall that he was indeed doing his work.

"Maybe if you lot could ever land girlfriends you'd understand that watching Lockhart make a fool of himself over and over isn't exactly priority," Abby returned with a poorly-hidden smile. As one of her two NEWT level classes that included the three boys but excluded Violet (Potions being the other), Abby rather enjoyed Transfiguration. No matter how good friends they were, every now and then she needed and appreciated a break from the relentless gossip queen.

"It was good for a laugh," Bletchley said. "Plus, you missed the show your Draco put on."

"Oh?"

"Aye, took on Potter in a duel in front of everyone," Pucey nodded in affirmation. "'Course, they were only supposed to disarm each other, but they ended up getting in some decent jinxes."

"Ade! You nearly stabbed me just then!" Higgs protested.

"Mr Pucey, if you would please pay attention to what you are doing? This is very important," Professor McGonagall said firmly after looking up at the sound of Higgs' voice. Across the aisle, Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater cast irritated looks in their direction, clearly annoyed by their talking. The Slytherins pointedly ignored them.

"Yes, Miss," Pucey replied to Professor McGonagall more as reflex than anything else as he still did not turn back around. "And then Draco conjured a serpent which – get this! Potter only started talking to! I mean in Parseltongue and everything!"

"Mr Pucey! Watch what you are doing!"

Professor McGonagall's disapproving shouts were too late to do any good, however. As he emphasized the word 'everything,' Pucey threw his hands out, inadvertently giving his wand more of a flick than he should have done. With a yelp of surprise, Higgs took the misdirected and unintentional spell squarely between the eyes and disappeared with a loud BANG! In his place, a fluffy badger had appeared, squinting up at Pucey with wet, beady eyes that looked unmistakably cross.

"Adrian!" Abby gaped at the creature that was formerly one of her closest friends. "What have you _done_?"

"But…how…I don't know!" Pucey sputtered, his eyes as round as saucers.

"Bloody hell, mate!" Bletchley jumped up to see the results of the accident. "Old Flint's going to murder you for turning one of his Chasers into the Hufflepuff mascot!"

"Now see here, young man!" Professor McGonagall was furious, but evidently not as furious as Higgs.

The black-and-white striped creature leapt up from the chair before another word could be said and attached itself to Pucey's face with a furious screech. Pucey shouted in surprise and jumped backward out of his seat, crashing into the table across the aisle and knocking over the occupant's piled supplies. The noise upset the rest of the un-transfigured badgers (and one partially-transfigured footstool with furry legs and a tail), which all began to hiss and squeal and run around the classroom, looking for a place to hide. Several of the girls jumped up onto the tables in terror as the badgers scurried beneath their robes. Professor McGonagall tried unsuccessfully to regain order of her class, her shouts lost in the confusing medley of screeches and screams.

"Hold on, mate!" Bletchley finally came to his senses, jumped past Abby and took hold of the Higgs-badger, pulling it loose from its grip on Pucey's cheekbones. "I've got – OUCH!" His victory was cut short as the furry creature sank its teeth deep into the soft skin of his index finger. Bletchley promptly dropped Higgs and stuck his bleeding finger in his mouth. Higgs hit the ground running and was quickly mixed up with the rest of the frenzied badgers.

"EVERYBODY SETTLE DOWN!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang loud and clear; she had pressed her wand tip to her throat and uttered "_Sonorus_!" a moment before. "NOT ANOTHER PEEP!"

And indeed, except for the hissing badgers, not a peep was heard. The screaming girls clammed up (but did not come down from the tables while the angry creatures still roamed the classroom floor). The students that had been frantically trying to collect their badgers stopped in their tracks. Bletchley, finger still in his mouth, shrank back to his seat next to Abby. And Adrian Pucey, even with fresh sets of tiny scratches adorning his face and the poor blind furry-legged footstool repeatedly bumping into his shin, shut his mouth tightly and prepared for the telling-off of his life.

But rather than yell and scream at him, Professor McGonagall, looking taller and more severe than any of them could ever recall her looking before, coolly pointed her wand at her throat once more and removed the volume charm by saying, "_Quietus_." She then strode over to Pucey and, looking him directly in his dark eyes, said, "Mr Pucey. You have exactly thirty seconds to locate your classmate and bring him to me to be returned to his true form, or you _will_ be expelled. Do I make myself clear?"

Pucey gulped despite himself. "Yes, Miss."

"Twenty-eight seconds."

And with a desperate plea that brought a satisfied smile to the lips of every Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in the room (and to those of whom they in turn repeated the tale), Pucey managed to coax Higgs out of the pack of still-agitated badgers with three seconds to spare. Professor McGonagall, an imperious look on her face, received the animal from Pucey's shaking hands and, with a swift flick of her wrist and another loud BANG! Higgs reappeared, albeit with black-and-white striped hair. After assuring him that it would return to normal in time, she sent him back to his seat looking rather bewildered. After permanently relocating Pucey to a seat across the classroom between two girls from Hufflepuff, she was just about to issue him a month's worth of detention before there was another disturbance that completely took her attention.

"ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

Professor McGonagall was out the door to the source of the screams before they had even finished and the entire class was hot on her heels. There in the corridor lay the petrified body of a young Hufflepuff boy. Floating just above him, black and smoky and strangely horizontal, was Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Hovering near the ceiling and clearly the culprit of the disturbing shouts was Peeves the Poltergeist, looking positively thrilled that his bellowing had provoked such a reaction, as all the other classes on the floor had also spilled into the hallway to investigate. And standing in the middle of it all, wearing a face that was not dissimilar to how Nightshade looked when Narcissa Malfoy would catch him on her furniture, was Harry Potter.

Abby exchanged a shocked look with Pucey, suddenly remembering what he had been saying before the entire badger ordeal about Potter having spoken Parseltongue at the Dueling Club.

"Enemies of the Heir, Beware?" she half-whispered to him, referring to the latter half of the gruesome message from the wall of the second-floor corridor, as all hell broke loose around them. "Do you think it's possible?"

"No way," Pucey replied a little too quickly. "I mean, Golden Boy Potter the Heir of Slytherin? Come on, Abby – get real!"

"You said yourself he spoke Parseltongue!" she returned. "What's more Slytherin than that? And if he is the Heir…I mean, you don't get much more 'enemy' to Potter than a Malfoy!"


End file.
